Beauty

The evening’s temperature is nearly perfect. Gray clouds cloak the sky, but it is not dreary. A cool wind runs its fingers through the leaves. The breeze carries a softness as its tendrils brush across the skin. Sunlight pierces the clouds and dances in a cherry tree. Beams of light so bright you couldn’t help but feel like God put on a show just for you.

But my heart lumbers through a sadness that doesn’t feel like it belongs. It persists in its great murkiness, slinking in my stomach and rolling around.

It’s a sadness that doesn’t bear one name, but a heaviness that’s a mixture of perfectly timed wrongness.

Sometimes, it’s hard to look at the world and know what you see is beautiful, but not feel it.