Beauty goes beyond your view, It cannot be contained in a spectrum, It doesn't sit comfy at your table. No! It is as wild as the winds, As lush as the greens; It is fluid like a river, Solid as the mountains. It is as vast and multilayered as our earth; It is not for your convenience.
Beauty, the speaker insists, can't be pinned down. It won't fit inside a neat category, and it won't settle politely at your dinner table. The poem opens by addressing "you," which makes it feel like a gentle scolding of anyone who thinks beauty should be easy to see, easy to define, or made for…
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