I believe we will find what we are looking for. When we know what we are looking for, they will appear before us as if mysteriously. We will see what were always there but only notice now because we open our eyes to them. Many of us do have eyes that do not see. I look for Beauty that day and see what I find in the same place that dozens of people pass by every day.
I saw this beautiful water plant that beckoned to me and could not resist going down into the water edge; squat, stoodd, bended, contorted myself under the hot sun until I saw the angle that I wanted to capture.
I saw this plant that that formed a beautiful arc with the flower buds exploding from the joints in the stem standing upright facing the sun. From which delicate white flowers are already in bloom.
The paper thin delicate white petals floating like tiny pieces of ultra thin cotton clothes that fluttered and waved to the whispering winds. It was poetry in motion. The dance reflected in the gently flowing water.
They were not alone in their dances. Dozens of white flowers were along dancing along on top of Broad green leaves above the water. In that moment, I forgot the intensity of the sun. I forgot everything.
When we keep an eye open for Beauty, she will appear. There is nothing magical about it. For she shy away those who has no regards for her. And smile on those appreciates her for what she is.
She Walks In Beauty by Lord Byron
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
No comments:
Post a Comment