I hold before me a single moment in the life of this world and realize that I have no word pure enough to contain its beauty. In faithful devotion to Light’s arc, its perfection being no less for lack of a name, the great ray brushes across horizons, received in the language of waving fields.
Darkness is dormant where life scurries and wanes, yet in light is relation and expanse, where meadow and forest yield in gladness to the Star.
A flower may say, “I am bright and alive!” but it is the Sun that provides its opportunity to open and gaze, and flourish. Is then beauty an avenue of light, for the perfumed breaths of Earth are expressed within a luminous life?
As dusk approaches I ask, what might I learn in this mirror of equivalence? What does this aperture of beauty reveal of the geography in myself?
In stillness, I listen carefully and hear the gentle voice of spirit: The inner light of heart and mind precedes as the beauty of my soul. The wondrous thought follows that my Universe is Light