A man who didn't know what beauty was,
Spent years of his life trying to decide what it was.
Searching near and far, for miles and miles he searched.
Until at last he returned from his travels, and he was weary with
sorrow.
He looked upon his city, his home, and the people very dear to him.
He stared at them as if seeing them for the first time, and found them
beautiful.

But he had travelled so far and so wide, and taken so long that,
His house was no longer his,
His city no longer knew who he was,
And his dear ones could not see his feelings.

In looking far and wide for something,
He ignored it under his very nose.
The man knew now what beauty was,
But he also knew how much it hurt to lose it.
The knowledge made the man wiser, but sadder.

Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Ferinus, in the year 417 AD.