Something there is in beauty
which grows in the soul of the beholder
like a flower:
fragile--
for many are the blights
which may waste
the beauty
or the beholder--
and imperishable--
for the beauty may die,
or the beholder may die,
or the world may die,
but the soul in which the flower grows
survives.

Lena's poem, Stephen R. Donaldson