Morning light through cracked glass
Makes patterns on the floor
The coffee cup with chipped edge
The one I reach for more
My grandmother’s weathered hands
Folding cloth with care
Each line a map of loving
Each silver strand of hair
“Udbhu-kanti…”
The vinyl record’s warm hiss
Before the music starts
Like breathing in between the notes
The spaces hold the art
My favorite jeans are faded now
They know the shape of me
Not perfect like the mannequin
But worn authentically
“There’s a word for this… udbhu-kanti”
I used to chase the shiny new
Hold tight to what was mine
But beauty blooms in letting go
Like leaves that fall in time
The sunset doesn’t try to stay
The river doesn’t cling
They teach me how to hold things light
And love the change they bring
The bookshelf full of bent spines
Each story left its mark
The candle burned down halfway
Still glowing in the dark
Not magazine beautiful
Not filtered, not pristine
Just real and true and lived-in
The most honest thing I’ve seen
There’s this word… an old word
Sanskrit, I think
“Udbhu” means authentic
Real, true to its essence
“Kanti” means beauty, radiance
Together… udbhu-kanti
The beauty of what’s real
The grace of letting go
The measure of true beauty
Is authenticity