What is Beauty
My son, I have been young, and now I am old,
In all my years, I have never come across a word,
As diverse as beauty.
Even the wise, who chew the night plant,
And drink otogo by day,
Debate this single word,
What is beauty?
Is it the party of a merchant, who only invites fellow merchants?
Is it having wealth, greater than Mansa Musa?
Is it a well fed baby, elegant and amazing?
But whose mother is too busy making money,
Is it a woman of great curves, with a mustard seed of a brain?
Is it a big house in the city?
Or a king size bed, whose measurement triples your body size,
What is beauty my son?
Listen to my wisdom, for I have lived long,
Beauty is the death of a tyrant, and the pleasant surprise of the birth of a king,
Beauty is the party of a merchant, who dines with the homeless,
Beauty is sleeping on the floor with a heart full of joy,
Beauty is the tear of a father, when the son wins an award,
Beauty is the kindness of a samaritan, who cares for strangers,
Beauty is eternal peace, perfect in its imperfection.
My son, beauty is a portion of the wise,
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