Beauty & stories again

Contemplating the connection i felt to my muse again and in somewhat cooler thoughts I realise that there was something extraordinary and beautiful that we shared, something which does genuinely seem to escape many other people... it is the bliss of beauty.

I must have mentioned in this blog somewhere some of her most enchanting words and letters, in particular one which captured the quintessential nature of her struggle for love, beauty, passion and spirit, and the same for which i too strived. She spoke of a night where she had awoken with the curtains gently swaying in the gentle breeze from the open window above her head. The cool summer vapours carried a heavy mist which filled the air, materialising almost unoticably upon her face and filling her chest with each shallow breath - it was as though she and the caressing moisture where one as she dreamily gave in to the call from beyond the window. I rewrite it very badly and can do no justice to her beautiful words (at this late hour at least, maybe i should chose a better time to write) but i wish to record that here is the goal of that beauty. It is the absorbtion into what is beautiful and entirely captivating about the everyday world around us; that richness which fulfills the heart's longing that lies in all places always; that answer to life's call to which we need only close our eyes and breath in; it is the self-declaring meaning to existence that requires no justification, no words, no answer for it appeals just as it is in complete and unchallenged perfection. This is what she stood for, this is the unparalleled beauty of that girl who seems more than ever to deserve the title Daughter of the Moon. She will be there now dancing in her mother's silvery light, gazing upon the world of mortals with rapture, for in her all places and all times were as one in their spellbinding beauty.

Now this must challenge Buddhism? but i cannot bring myself to abandon what i at least sort for even before meeting my muse, but she so spectacularly held the key to this world of poetry, rhyme and story.

The hero takes the stage within the story and we the audience wait with baited breath to see what unfolds and how he will fashion his destiny. This is not the story of some arbitrary play, but this is the story of each and every life! Actors within our own stories and the audience of gods awaits our every move seeing us unfurl and brandish our destinies.

To the more enlightened it might become apparent that we are authors of our destiny, but to the common man we challenge and battle against this unknown hand, swaying as i do within the pages of this blog, between hardship and times of plenty unknowing of whence all these stories come, and unknowing of how to despatch my future.

I stand today at crossroads again, between two destinies that i have battled for as long as i can remember and it lies upon just one person to take that path, or stand like a hung ghost for the rest of time upon this spot. I have advisors who speak of one way and a heart which speaks of another but beauty will be my loudest protagonist and my muse would welcome that from her lofty seat above this stage.

My heart sings again of this project we embarked upon, i will let no darkened thoughts, or ounces of realism distract its course - she said she was a realist and i the idealist but in beauty these are the same - until every shadow of this world speaks of beauty my heart has no right to call itself by that name. We the writers of our own destinies chose the world in which we live, and the only world that can justify being so called upon is Beauty. Dispell all doubts, all darkness, and be free to love in fullness, that is the eternal call of every destiny.

So Be it!