Everywhere I look is full of rot,
in me and in the world that’s all around;
decay with which all life on Earth is fraught
begins before it’s buried in the ground.
And I who thought myself to be immune
am no less full of filth and death as well,
no better in some ways than any goon,
and stained with all the slime in which I fell.
But everywhere I look there’s beauty too,
though it may be a challenge to detect,
or something that may shine in what we do,
that’s free of selfishness, our worst defect.
To strive for beauty, it seems we are meant,
like blooms that flourish out of excrement.
Drawing: Redmer Hoekstra
Mario A. Pita