Monday, April 19, 2004
The Boy Who Needed Beauty
The boy who needed beauty knew that beauty wasn't everything. The boy who needed beauty knew that beauty came in many forms, that some were awful to behold. The boy knew about the eye of the beholder. He knew that beauty should be within and beauty begins at home and all that la-di-da and yadda-yadda and blah and blah and blah. Still, the boy needed beauty. He wanted more and more. So the boy set off on a journey, a quest of sorts, on which he hoped to seek out beauties of every sort to sate his hunger, love, lust, his sacred need, his profane thirst for beauty, beauty, beauty.
He drank from a beautiful stream. He slept in a beautiful field beneath the beautiful sky. He broached the depths of a beautiful wood. He swam in a beautiful sea. He lived in beautiful cities. He loved every beautiful girl who would be loved by him and also took for himself the beauty of a broken heart that heals only to be broken once again. He consumed beauty and lost beauty and found that the loss was just as lovely in its way and could be even more so over time as having beauty in hand. Some beauties, it seems, are made to be lost by one person or another, only achieving their ultimate forms when someone cannot have them.
The boy worshipped beautiful gods. He battled beautiful monsters. He learned beautiful truths and told the most beautiful lies to anyone who asked him of his travels as his travels went on and on.
As you will have guessed by now, the journey never ended. As you surely suspected all along, the boy could never be satisfied, just as you and I will likely never be. He found, however, that the journey, the need, even the loss and sorrow and desperate torment of beauty in all its forms were enough to build a life on and his life has gone on a long time.
For centuries, the boy has searched. His search now brings him to you. Your beauty, though you may think it hidden or otherwise unknown, has called out to him, has drawn him across fathomless, fabulous waters and lands and into your real world. Even now, his hand is raised to knock on your door. Whether you allow him to enter your beautiful world or turn him away heartbroken, you will have rewarded the boy for his efforts and in turn, find some reward of your own. Never doubt that you are worthy of this reward.
He drank from a beautiful stream. He slept in a beautiful field beneath the beautiful sky. He broached the depths of a beautiful wood. He swam in a beautiful sea. He lived in beautiful cities. He loved every beautiful girl who would be loved by him and also took for himself the beauty of a broken heart that heals only to be broken once again. He consumed beauty and lost beauty and found that the loss was just as lovely in its way and could be even more so over time as having beauty in hand. Some beauties, it seems, are made to be lost by one person or another, only achieving their ultimate forms when someone cannot have them.
The boy worshipped beautiful gods. He battled beautiful monsters. He learned beautiful truths and told the most beautiful lies to anyone who asked him of his travels as his travels went on and on.
As you will have guessed by now, the journey never ended. As you surely suspected all along, the boy could never be satisfied, just as you and I will likely never be. He found, however, that the journey, the need, even the loss and sorrow and desperate torment of beauty in all its forms were enough to build a life on and his life has gone on a long time.
For centuries, the boy has searched. His search now brings him to you. Your beauty, though you may think it hidden or otherwise unknown, has called out to him, has drawn him across fathomless, fabulous waters and lands and into your real world. Even now, his hand is raised to knock on your door. Whether you allow him to enter your beautiful world or turn him away heartbroken, you will have rewarded the boy for his efforts and in turn, find some reward of your own. Never doubt that you are worthy of this reward.
