Seeker

What Is Beauty?

Our worm creates a need for the most fair

It knows our faults and holds them ransom  

Our worm of the mind is like a phantom

Gnawing mental entrails and eager to snare

his marks and he does not err

Our worm’s pursuit is lifelong in its term

It lies always hungry within its lair

What execrable thing created the worm

Our worm is age old no doubt eternal

Those less lovely are deemed of less worth

Our worm says: flawed, lacking, give a wide berth,

defects are man’s spawn a rotten kernel

Glance in a pool to see his luring stare

Whether in shock or guilt we will be there