When Beauty Wears A Veil Of Stubbornness Poem by Mohammad Yousef

In the gallery of fleeting moments,
she waltzes,
a siren clothed in silk,
her laughter like the tinkling of crystal,
each note sharp enough to cut through the air,
yet dulled by the fog of her obstinacy.

Her eyes, twin pools of summer sky,
hold secrets of the universe,
but her thoughts,
cloaked in a veil of ignorance,
dance to a different rhythm,
unfurling like petals in a storm,
defiant, unyielding,
refusing to bend to the wisdom of the world.

She struts down the boulevards of attention,
a peacock flaunting its feathers,
captivating hearts with a tilt of her chin,
and yet,
each step is a stubborn stomp,
echoing through the canyons of reason,
as if to declare,
"I am not here to listen."

The world whispers truths,
softly, like the rustle of leaves,
yet she clings to her own narrative,
a tapestry woven with threads of vanity,
her beauty a luminous facade,
hiding the shadows of her folly,
like sunlight trapped in a glass jar,
glimmering but ultimately confined.

In conversations, she is a tempest,
whirling, twirling,
but never landing,
her words a cacophony of certainty,
each syllable a stone cast into the pond of discourse,
rippling yet never sinking,
floating on the surface of her stubborn pride.

She is a riddle wrapped in a conundrum,
a goddess with feet of clay,
and while the world marvels at her grace,
they overlook the thorns of her demeanor,
the sharp edges of her inflexibility,
the way she turns away from the mirror of truth,
afraid of reflection,
afraid of the shadows that lurk behind.

Oh, beauty!
You are a fleeting thing,
a spark in the vastness of existence,
but when you choose the path of obstinacy,
you become a lighthouse with no light,
a flower that wilts under the sun,
and the brilliance that once dazzled
turns into a fading echo,
lost in the corridors of time.

So let the beauty be wise,
let her charm be tempered by understanding,
for in the harmony of grace and intellect,
lies a power far greater,
a beauty that transcends the surface,
that bathes in the light of compassion,
and dances freely in the world of the aware.

Yet here she stands,
a paradox of allure and ignorance,
and in her obstinacy,
there's a lesson for the ages,
for beauty, when unaccompanied by wisdom,
is a fleeting sigh in the winds of eternity,
a story half-told,
a melody lost in the cacophony of pride.