Beauty.

It doesn't take the form of a human but rather a soul.

One's love and compassion gives more strength than the sight of an attractive, heartless demon.

Beauty is beyond what words can describe;

A fantasy where the flowers are bloomed, the animals are free, and your love gives the world a pink tint;

Color gives you emotion;

Beauty gives you color.

Avoid the gray darkness of the monsters we call "humans" and welcome the angels that give your life color and beauty.

Welcome the beautiful souls that provide empathy and compassion;

Welcome the flowers that bloom with the sweet aroma of freedom and love;

Welcome to a place where physical attractiveness doesn't define you;

Welcome to a world where beauty is defined by your kind-hearted soul;

Welcome home.

There used to be a young man who would sit in the pew ahead of me in the church. He didn't say much. I think he just smiled a lot. I can't remember ever speaking a word to him, but I'd see him most Sundays, dark black hair, a handsome suit, quiet and focused and different, different because he was good, and not many young men are good anymore. Sometimes he'd serve at Mass even when he lost his arm to the cancer that was rapidly destroying his body. I thought that after the amputation he would get better just like that.

He died seven years ago today. I don't suppose many people remember him. He was just so quiet. Humble men keep to themselves because they don't need validation or awards. I would like to have the copy of the letter he wrote, addressed to every member of the church; I was nine years old last I read it. But every year I remember the day he died. I remember the pride I felt to sit in the pew behind him. And I hope that I will have some of that goodness one day, the goodness that strikes a little girl, even from a distance, so that she can never forget the beauty of being different.