Three words picked from a friend's
deck of Angel Cards and I ponder
on the meaning of it all.
Beauty— more born than made
Balance— earned with hard work
Honesty— always within our reach.

When I think of beauty— Plotinus's
Enneads tells us how to sculpt our soul
like a statue: straighten all that's crooked,
cut away all that's excessive, smooth all
that's rough, till we become sunlike and
behold the splendor of beauty everywhere.

When I think of balance— I recall
the performance of Marcel Marceau,
the grace of his mime, how with a few
gestures, he'd whisk us to a park garden,
to enjoy the sunshine, smell the roses,
chase, catch and release a butterfly.

When I think of honesty— photographs
of Lincoln flash before me, not a trace
of malice in his face, his eyes brimming
with charity, the moral compass
in his heart pointing to the Pole Star,
guiding this nation in its darkest hour.

Beauty of soul, balance of body,
honesty of mind— three winged steeds
carrying us to flight. It's all so simple—
no perfume, lotion, or cream can make us
beautiful but balance in our work and play,
and honesty that springs from purity of heart.


Peter Y. Chou
Mountain View, Oct. 13, 2000