Vision's Lord

I would not marvel this world beautiful 
I have seen faces the ugliest dreadful 
Nor would I boo the world as awful 
I have seen faces the prettiest artful.

Thorn on flowers and flowers on dirt;
Vain in victory and spirit in sore;
Plight in riches and wealth in poor,
Are all plenty mixture in sort.

This brings cliché with value and sighs
Sees the beauty in beholder’s eyes
But black is black, thicker than white
Sordid easily springs on surface sight.


Choice is there for man to see
Into dome of goodness with golden key,
On pretty or ugly we behold
We are for our vision’s lord