Perhaps if we stooped so low,
as to stop for a moment
a fleeting second
we might take the time to realise
the beauty of the budding flower,
and the delicate delight of a smile,
and the intricacy of the veins on our wrists
and the carefulness with which blood is pumped through them.
we might also notice
the boy getting bullied at the back of the bus,
and the girl crying because her father died,
and the little child who doesn’t want to go home
because they don’t know what horror awaits them there.
Perhaps if we stopped for a moment
we might realise
that too much of beauty is natural,
and too much of devastation is man-made.