The truth about beauty?

I used to think,
when I was just a child,
that anywhere I stood
there would be Art;
something beautiful
to see,
to touch,
to draw or paint
or merely to describe.
And now that I am grown
-- since it still seems to be true
that I see beauty everywhere I look --
I have to wonder
if I choose where I am
so that the truth may continue,
or if I see what I see
-- wherever I am --
because that childhood speculation
is,
in fact,
true.


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