True Beauty

True beauty:

to hear of beauty, to be transformed through description, and offering hope as a promise to be witnessed - yet still I would find myself removed from the actual things of the world, true beauty being elusive to all but presence. Even a poet offers only hints of this, no matter how insightful or artfully arranged, words fail in the sense of any real understanding.

but there's still the urge to try, a wish to give voice to something greater than can be told. This too belongs to beauty, as if it's reach continues through an artist's touch, grown fainter but still demands for it's expression. The sorrow of every artist is the sense of losing this touch, realty never quite captured through the symbols of their work. 

true beauty is in the experience.

and yet, perhaps, it's all experience - that the role of an artist is to be transformed by beauty and carried on through it's vibrations. Not to capture any single, beautiful scene but to simply, and always, be a continuation of its expression. True beauty is seamless, inter-dependent through landscape all the way to the artist's mind, and even than to all who view their work. 

it's all continued beauty. 

to hear of beauty, through words, or any means - is a sirens call of nature, urging a return to the truth of simply being. True beauty is life, told in all it's sorrow and wonder. It's always being expresses, and I find myself in an easy surrender of grace and words.

part of its continuation. 

~

Peace, Eric