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Beautiful - a poem


Beautiful gate had no beauty
It was dull, dismal and colourless
All I could see was my lame legs
And the skin and bones that is left of them.

I knew every stone in the gate
Every stain on the gate
The contrast was obvious
Lacklustre was the Beautiful gate.

My eye level caught strong legs walk by
The muscles that bulged out in the calves of men
The smooth skin of the legs of women
Mine was brute, cold and lifeless.

Then two men came by
First time I remember, I saw face of men
First time I remember, a man looking at me eagerly
I looked at them intently, expecting.

But they disappointed me first
Gold or silver, I do not have ,he said
Dullness blanketed yet again
Ashen laden was still mine eyes.

In the name of Jesus of Nazareth, walk
A jolt from somewhere, filled me.
My very own eyes saw it as it progressed
Something which I dreamt, but couldn't believe.

The thigh muscles, the calves - as I desired
My bones felt strength within
The skin was dry, now it is shining
From icthyosis to glowing smooth

The eldest of the two held my hand
And for the first time I am standing
I am looking at men face to face
Not from below. I felt I was at par with men.

Now I know, the heights are different
Some are bald, some have thick hair
Never did I know down below, to perceive this is it a dream?

All I could was cling on to this man.
He said about another man
Who came from heaven, God Himself
And died and rose again

Holding on to Peter, that was his name
He told about Jesus
Who died for my sin
Now everything made sense, tears rolling down my eyes.

Slowly dullness laclustre turned away
To something beautiful, that I couldn't imagine
Endless possibilities of satisfaction for the eye - called colours
This was what I was missing.

Now I know why I was here
Now I know why I was lame
That I would meet with the man called life.
And beautiful gate was indeed beautiful...

Image credit: 
https://clearlightsaunas.com.au/blogs/wellness-journal/color-psychology


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