Saturday, 30 January 2016

A Thing of Beauty

There is something profoundly wonderful, my friends, in the notion of a thing of beauty being a joy forever. The thing could be a moment of unchecked beauty revealed to human eyes, one so unchecked to ensure the sanity of mortals. Or it could be a stray breeze from the savannah of heavens, curious, and running into gaping beings, their eyes bulging like orbs, their nostrils striving to take in every speck of the warm, fresh, ethereal air.
It could be that solitary tree with it's gnarled form, dreadful to the world and making elders flinch, yet, one devoid of commonplace fear sees it growing from a sapling green and filled with joys, the leaves dancing in glee of the youth. It is beauty, the innocuous and pure perspective of the observer and not the cracked bark of the forlorn tree.


I love this notion of beauty in the eyes of the watcher, the smile playing on his face, the eyes gleaming rays of scintillating light, the mind opening paths to such imagination that most mortals in their bleak daily life so sullenly disregard. Beauty is in the motion of fish, their lustrous scales taunting the Sun in his proud abode above the clouds, slowly, so slowly who moves and smiles the smile of millennia on the naivete of the fish. Beauty is in the held breath and frozen heart of someone watching someone, and the latter is indeed the observer of beauty, not beauty herself.
Beauty, my friends, is conserved. Even in the darkest corners, there is beauty, should you choose to see. And indeed, to the blind eye, beauty is but the next great adventure.

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