Its all stored inside a glass dome
like a box full of warmth lying intact in my lap
for I can open it whenever I like,
the contents please me the same every time.
It is altogether a different place
where I can bound more with myself
and the Earth around me.
The beauty is in the way it invigorates me,
the flowery hope that blossoms quietly within me
feeling like a soft burning lamp.
The beauty is the tears welling up in my eyes
when I open the box,
because of the utmost happiness I gain from it.
Despite the rough and tired days, dejection and
helplessness in the nights, that thing of beauty
always brings me home.