Delight in each prolific rendering of beauty,
as if the earth a brew of tea
and beauty its steaming wisps.
This an inalienable wonder proved in either dirt or star.
Repel to deny to learn too little so often
as is each infinity of beauty!
Beauty they say caresses the tender, arouses the dormant, excites the innocent, tempers the strong, guides the wise, binds the wicked, comforts the good, so why then do we so often ignore and abuse beauty?
If I walk slowly on soft earth amidst a native meadow, tongued by light, by tufts of breeze, touched across my chest and shoulder, back and thigh with warming sun, drawn by the incessant celebration in twists of leaf, spiked grasses and the willing exposition of the flowers, will I not know of beauty and be caressed, excited, comforted? May I not add this taste of beauty to myself? Or will I remove myself, another new reminder that such is not nor ever will be me; that human is apart?
To see and then be blind, to touch and then be empty, to join and then be separate, is to find and then to lose our precious human birthright, for we are smothered in the revelation of beauty, as awakening to each day within these stars must surely be.
If we must, we are charged to take our birthright privately rather than be pelted with the dusts of contempt, of incoherent denial, of jealous resentment, of the darker splendored substitutions fashioned from culture, and politic, and war. We are to strive in all our breadth to know the even more intolerable and secret splendors of beauty.
If we rise each day and in our civilian duty declare no other purpose than the exploration of beauty, would we then find the beauty in the purpose of ourselves?