​Of the ultimate beauty

Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she herself
Be your way and your guide?

And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your very speech?
The aggrieved and the injured say, “beauty is kind and gentle.

Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us.”

And the passionate say,”nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread.

Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us.”

The tired and the weary say,”beauty is of soft whisperings. She speaks in

Our spirit. Her voice yields to our silences like a faint light that quivers in fear of the shadow.”

But the restless say,”we have heard her shouting among the mountains,

And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and

The roaring of lions.”

At night the watchmen of the city say, ”beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east.”

And at noontide the toiler and the wayfarers say, ”we have seen her leaning

Over the earth from the windows of the sunset.”

In winter say the snow-bound, ”she shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills.”

And in the summer heat the reapers say, ”we have seen her dancing with the

Autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair.”
All these things have you said of beauty,

Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied,

And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.

It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth,

But rather a heart inflamed and a soul enchanted.

It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,

But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you

Hear though you shut your ears.

It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw,

But rather a garden forever in bloom and a flock of angels forever in flight.
Beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.

Yet you are life and you are the veil.

Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.

Yet you are eternity and you are the mirror.

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