The Beautiful One

One of the lovely people is me. I certainly feel pretty. I am admired by many. They desire to be close to me. They long to be like me.

We are simply creatures influenced by beauty's rare and careless favor. I am singular. No one else can see me.

When I unfurl, everyone looks at me, but not with affection but with contempt. They don't like my beauty. They despise how perfect I am. They misinterpret my happiness as arrogance and gnash their teeth at it.

I was an early bloomer. But when I did, the room burst into gasps—oh, when I did. I became a spectacle of form and color as I burst into life. Everything else around me paled in comparison. Others appear desolate from where I stand—simple echoes trying unsuccessfully to imitate my lushness.

I look around, proud and cocky. It's called arrogance. It's what I call "clarity." Why should I not rejoice in myself? Self-love is not egotism. It's self-sustaining. It is thin. I don't go undercover.

I don't get smaller. I sparkle. I'm called rude by them. To me, this is honesty. Illumination is my goal. I run after the sun. Peace, allow them to remain in their soft shade. I am aware of the truth. Shade is decay, not kindness. an eclipse of development. The day comes to an end. So I stand shining. alone, but victorious.

Among the predator weeds that make virtue of their overgrowth. It is known as abundance. I see disguise. Their leaves express their hunger to me. They anticipate my fall. They yearn for my downfall.

However, they lack the ability to develop. Unlike what I do. Yet, there are times when I wonder, "Am I wasting my bloom?" Who is it germinating for? These other people, who drink excessively without tasting the water? Who views life as a burden rather than a joy? The drone sounds to me. I'm being watched by a circling bee.

I whisper, "Don't." "Get off!" I understand what it wants. I understand its purpose for beauty. Do you now see? How does beauty entice the unwelcome, leeches, and vermin?

They settle for equilibrium while I search for the light. merely for homeostasis. equilibrium in the metabolism. merely "existing" However, there's more to life than just making ends meet. Living is not tied to death.

I look around with mockery and contempt. because I realize what is true. The dirt surrounds me. A worm wriggles up and says, "But you’re all in the same pot," smiling far too proudly for something so small. It continues, "And we worms will compost all of you." Eventually.”

I yell, "We'll see." Knowing that the worms will always prevail— **The arrogance does not accompany that part. **

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