I often ponder as I lay awake and let my mind wonder, what beauty realy is.
If it is truly only in the eye of the beholder? am I then blind when I hold her?
Embrace her and see infinate possibilities like trillion probabilities of us creating
Our own galaxies with the simple serinty of jst the sound of her voice.
If beauty does exists then surely it must be more than visual, like a complex
Machanical sphere that governs all that is tangible. What manner of beauty then
Lies in the air above us or ground below us or is it limited only to our comprehension?
If so then beauty must be all that I can see, for that is where my understanding reigns.
Oh but if it truly so then beauty is in no order and far too complex to define. Because
What is beauty to me is imperfection to u.
With that reasoning we find that beauty is unique to each man according to his own predetermined
Desires and createria of what he considers beauty so long before he saw u, he knew u were beautiful
Because u were exatctly what he considered beauty to be anything less is mare imperfection. How
Shallow we think and allow our eyes to percieve the world. I wonder is that why we are perhaps so quick to justify failure than to correct our errors?
But this I knw without a shed of a doubt...for if the is beauty in light then surely darkness must glow in its own light too.
Even moreso the surely must be beauty in sorrow as the is in laughter.
But what I seek most is the understanding and appreciation in knowing that as the is beauty in life so is the in death and with this I silently conclude that the greatest beauty of all is the celebration of life and not the moaning of what is lost or left behind