Marvel At The Riddle

Marvel at the Riddle

Let's lean in together, chin in hand, shall we,

And marvel at the masterful chaos Nature has splashed

Across the curious expanse of a human face.

Behold the etched line of worry or wisdom, who knows,

Playing neighbor to the smooth stretch of innocuous skin

Whose thoughts are too light to leave a mark.

Notice that crimson bloom of vitality

Brushed on one cheek, and oh, on the other,

The pallid hue of discontent or perhaps just bad lighting.

And there's lethargy, dragging its feet like a sullen child

Through the kinetic dance of daily chores,

While a smile, quick as a magician’s coin,

Appears and vanishes among the flock of private sadnesses.

Observe this one muscle, soft-spoken as a secret,

Boasting a bellowing heft reserved for parades and protests;

Such inexplicable strength poised to defy

The relentless drizzle of day-to-day grievances.

Note the odd stillness in a moment of victory,

And an unwarranted scrutiny, keen eyes over spectacles,

Peering at a world too mundane for such zeal.

In one corner, pride, immune to the green-eyed glances,

Taking sips of satisfaction from a self-brimming goblet.

The face dares with a shy boldness,

A bravery so tentative it could make embarrassment itself turn red.

Look how freedom roams across that forehead,

Interrupted here and there by timid chains of reticence.

And virtue, politely tapping its name tag,

As if it left its driver's license on the kitchen counter.

This portrait, with all its disregard for conformity,

Snags the heart with a deftly thrown lasso.

Give me time as a coin to toss into a fountain of wishes,

And I'd ask to inhabit this marvel of oddities and laughter

For no fewer than five hundred turns around the sun.