Within the shadow of the drooping branch that falls on this paper,
Within the wings of the butterfly, ever so still,
Within the expanse of the hills that surround me,
Within the pollen on the gulmohur lying on the soil,
Within the eyes of the victim, too ashamed to look in the mirror,
Within the heart of the angry sibling, left unattended to when his brother was born.
Search within yourself for that beauty,