Beauty is not characterized
by the efforts of my appearance,
but was borne
upon two wooden beams and through three piercing nails.
With each drive of a nail
faces line up in the mind of the Savior, one after another,
each with a mask of his own:
deception, shame, pride.
With each tear being shed
and every cry screaming from the cross,
women fall into the arms of men,
hoping to find true love and longing to hear those words:
“You are beautiful.”
With each dig from the thorns
and tearing of flesh,
men seek fortune and fame,
believing that power can only be obtained
through ambitions and violence.
“It is finished.”
The world with its
tainted love and enticing roads to death
Divine blood pours over
the lost and broken,
vain and deceptive,
young and aged.
It penetrates every evil,
wipes off each mask,
and defines true love.
This beauty can only be found
through such brokenness,
through such sacrifice,
with the invitation of accepting it for myself.
Beauty is the power of Your love
that flows through my veins
and enraptures all of who You are