“Beauty has the power to which brawn concedes:
liquifying to mush,
involuntarily, volunteering.”
It is within the sight of beauty that we are pulled: deep, deeper, closer and under. Drawn in by the innate, the innocent and even carnal. Our emotions are played upon if not preyed, as if we no longer have self control, our autonomy and breath stollen by the sight before us. Beauty seems to have strength over brawn and intelligence, pulling our senses and captivating: caging the wild beast and silencing the inner scream. Often its said that beauty tames the beast, but truly the beast is always willing. Beauty has the power to which brawn concedes: liquifying to mush, involuntarily, volunteering.
“Beauty is as beauty shows, on its own accord.”
Beauty has a way of softening the edges, disguising the lashing thorns, justifying the painful birth. The white dove is sacred as the black crow is feared, but both grace the wind, fly in wave like forms, nest their young. Beauty is as beauty shows, on its own accord.
“Words attempt to describe what the eye sees,
and touch knows.”
The history of beauty has been documented in many forms and many mediums. Words attempt to describe what the eye sees, and touch knows. Beauty has been shown to have a sensual form and a threatening form, angled and con vexed, simplistic and shamefully ornate. It’s depicted as tall, short and squat, colorless and kaleidoscopic, wrecked and ruined, heavenly and inspired. It is said that it invites calamity as it draws peace, lightens the air, steals the energy from a room. If a man is too beautiful he may be seen as weak, a woman too beautiful is vexing, a threat.
Beauty can be as thin as skin, deep as bone and piercing to the morrow. It can be overrated in the realms of art, and lost as natural born species. It can be in the eye of the lover and crushed in the hand of the ego. It comes and goes like fashion, steadfast as stone to water.
Beauty is as beauty lends itself to be.