Hey, How’s It Goin?
As the transfixed moon gazes its tranient light to the startled by surpirse, all light becomes stolen toward the grand eye, all beauty shifts to the sky, no wandering gaze to find her elsewhere for it is night and darkness befalls the scene and the seen. Then end of the light meets the eye, traveling its billions year journey to meet its demise in your gaze. There is no soul, the soul is you, gazing transfixed in return. We seek to warm the darkness but in the end we are consumed. Consumed by beauty, goodness, truth, and the darkness is left to warm itself as though it were able. In the end it can no more exist in constant light than anything can exist in constant heat. A tempered world is a rare and precious thing. A glorious sight to behold from without and from within. In the end consumed by beauty.
Beauty, goodness, truth.