Beauty is like a foam:
Liquid birthed by bubbles as gas holds.
Large volume of gas in closed-cell,
Extension of odds, as opened-cell.
Three dimensional disordered bubbles,
Clustering clumsily in an enchanted circle.
Ranging from hideous tessellations,
To Pleatue’s laws of single-unit cell in perfection.
Picking its limb in the air as in gay:
A jive familiar only to what fantasy has made.
Boasting its elegance, aided by elevation.
Drifting as of a gazelle on a dire mission.
But as the sun take a bold step towards the earth.
It curses inwardly: beginning of its death.
Ancestor. Ancestral Pen. Juxtaposition
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