Thinking and writing

Inside a flower


Sometimes I just like to write down what I think. It clarifies my thought process. In this instance I wrote what beauty means to me. It is a work in progress. Now that I reread it I’m not sure what I’m trying to say 🙂 What do you think beauty is?


Beauty is a strange thing. It is not the mere aesthetic appearance of things, as many people have come to believe. It is not a summer’s day, or a flower, or the filmy fluttering of a thin skirt about the ankles of a woman who might or might not be a descendant of Venus.

Beauty is not in the eye of the beholder.

There can be no description of true beauty – the minute you turn to examine it, it evaporates and loses its colour. It can never be seen. It is invisible.

It is not sudden, and its entrance into your mind can neither be seen nor remembered. When it leaves, you will not notice until it is completely gone. And even then, it is only because you suddenly miss a feeling of serenity that you seem to have misplaced.

When you feel beauty, it vibrates with a melodic humming within your center. It fills you with the need to sigh and look up and find more around you – in the trees, in the faces of your loved ones, as a whisper on the breeze. It fills you completely, and you want for nothing. You realize true peace for that fleeting instant. You hold no grudges and though you may cry tears, the emotion filling them can no more be explained than the flooding of your heart with the love and quiet joy that can only have come straight from heaven.

And while the beauty lasts within you, you will only then understand. It is not in the eye of the beholder, but in their spirit.

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