Imagine the petal of a white rose.

Imagine its beauty.

Beads of morning mist resting upon it, glimmering in the sunlight, it is indeed detailed and gorgeous.

Now,
watch it wither.

The edges of it brown and shrivel slightly, adding a tainted look to the once white rose petal.

Is it still beautiful?
If you look close enough, yes.

The morning mist still appears each day on it, each stain and bruise of brown that appears adding more meaning to the delicacy of the material item, but yet the strange prettiness remains as strong as steel.

A fallen petal with a story of beauty to tell.

That is how I view the world.