Enchanted by the sound of rain which falls upon the slick black street,
the teal, glistening roofs and stone;
I stand beneath the entrance to the shrine,
drinking in the smell of wet pavement and cool air.
Water drips from the bamboo sign.
Pink flower petals fall with the rain from their
branches and scatter, impressed across the floor.

Life continues.

These feelings, these emotions, these seasons — they come and go.
Beauty remains — throughout it all, beauty remains.
Beauty can’t be only what makes us happy—it’s not only what’s alluring,
effortless or clean.

Beauty is truth,
for it shines, it rises, it perseveres through whatever life presents,
and that is often pain or challenge — that which makes us feel most deeply, for the darkness is often the most beautiful, as in any darkness,
there’s light.

Beauty is the truth, and at a time I need it,
the unexpected rain is so, so beautiful.