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Thursday, January 25, 2007

The Power of Beauty - Higher than Reason












Dad and me


What if I die tomorrow and I chose to postpone joy today?

. . . . And what makes life . . . . . . life?

And what makes it so enjoyable, that you anxiously want to take it all in?

For me it's my passions.

So many passions, so little time.

I love being in this bliss.

I never knew my life would be this good. I am humbled . . .


::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

I will not remember

what you are in the form of words,

but

in essences.

It isn’t words

that give you power over me.

It is important that we open

ourselves

to our vast resource of emotions and passion,

and that we

give with feeling, from a soul

that has felt its depths

pushed out into

an infinite realm.

The glory of beauty is then crowned,

only

to be crowned again and again.

Your spirit sustains.

Feelings of you surface

to nourish

the glow in my heart

that is present

because

of

you.

I have once shared the wealth of your soul

and humbly

I hope,

you have felt

the warmth

of my soul

reaching out

to you.

And that

each one of us

has entered,

only,

to know again,

the richness to be known

in sharing

the wealth of two souls

giving

what

they have become . . . to become.

This then would be fulfillment

To have

life

meet

life

and to complement itself so.

To allow Life to become one

would

be

giving

harmony

to the quality of being.

Such union

would shake our senses

and

would be higher than reason.

The power of beauty we do not know.

Let me try.

I will affirm

your beauty,

I will be loving,

understanding,

forgiving.

Open to me

and

do not be afraid.

I must trust

the greatness

of your soul.

Dare I be so vulnerable

to trust

you will be fair

with the receiving of my giving?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ........ Yes.

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My poem above was written years ago. It resulted from an adventure in Rome when I met Stelios from Greece. We walked to the Colosseum one day. Then met up again in London a couple years later. Stelios is long gone from my life, but the poem still touches my heart. Memories are such a gift. Enjoy them. I dedicate this wonderful memory to my dad whose "memory" has robbed him of his being so fully human and fully alive, here on this planet, in his mortal body.

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I will not remember

what you are in the form of words

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