Exists Some Beauty

Exists some beauty in the thought
Of puncture wounds and blood,
Of salty tears of mortal fears,
And wickedness in floods.

I know it's there but cannot say
Exactly where it lies,
For it rose up past the atmosphere
Now furtive in dark skies.

But specks fell off behind
—Why so little, I do not know—
Much gathered for the shrines
— Why some can’t share, I do not know—

And days in which I feel despair
Creeping upon my mind,
I wish that beauty would’ve left
More of itself behind.