Beauty

Beauty

What a beauty you are

Personified you are not

Pictures you are not

How perplexing

How confusing

Oh beauty what are you

Torment me so

Hurt me so

Your nature eludes me

For words you are not

For pen do you not justice

Nor are you an action

For the ballet makes you weep

You are not the voice

Even when nature sings you praise

Oh beauties real are you

Or just a dream

A dream for fools

Fools who claim to know you so

Accusing you to be all that is holy

All that is right

All that is good

Beauty you rouse me so

I burn for you

Yet never capture you

Oh beauty you make me feel

To tear with emotion

To seethe with rage

To laugh with joy

To make me human

Oh beauty what are you

Are you real or just a dream

A fleeting dream that comes and goes

Like ages old and new

Beauty where are you

Are you the soul that burns for thee?

I chase a dream

A dream for beauty

But you are a dream

You are not real

I searched for beauty for naught

For there is no real beauty

I am beauty

I am the thought

I am an idea

I am a dream.

Is it beautiful? Is it real? Beauty is a concept nothing more nothing less. But what is real? Are you real? Is the world around you real? Does something corporeal mean it is real? Does seeing something makes it real? Hearing it? Feeling it? No it does not. We have a veil of illusions pulled over our very world, the veil of thought. The very moment we think we have fallen asleep to the world. The moment we think we know is the moment when all is undone. We do not see with our eyes we see with our brain, we do not feel with our skin we fell with our brain. We do not smell with our nose, we smell with our brain. We do not hear with our ears, we hear with our brain. We do not taste with out tongue, we taste with our brain. We do not live in a world governed by nature; we are now living in a world governed by our brain. Our very own Matrix. Everything we create with our minds such as concepts of beauty cannot be real to the natural world. However it is only given existence inside the world we have created.

‘There is no spoon’ the little boy told Neo when he went to find the Oracle in the Matrix. Can an object become beautiful if no one looks at it? If there is a world so beautiful but no one has ever seen it is it real? Is there paradise? What is paradise? Is it a beautiful place, of course it is says the people. Have you seen it people? No we have to die to go to paradise. So is beauty real? No it is not real; it is only as real as our brains make it up to be. Our world, our perception and even humanity itself, everything is perceptions. So is what I say real? I won’t count on it for I am just an idea, a beautiful idea.

Asita no PRISM -Aya Hirano

OMG, been a fan of Aya Hirano but never saw this MV until lately *Slaps self* She is so adorable... look at her all bubbly and jumpy. *Swoons*. This is one of her older MVs btw. Below is a newer one from her new single NEOPHILLIA.

The end of the beginning/The Rose

So wow i am actually going to go into blogging. To be honest i wanted to do this for quite some time now. Just never could get my lazy ass to actually do it. Well this is my chance to pen down my thoughts and world view as well and serve as a dairy of sorts i guess. So lets start off with one of my favorite poem i did. The Rose. Inspiration from Robert Browning's Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came.

The Rose



I

Lightning piercing dark black clouds

Chaos, anarchy and fear abound

The end has come for all but few

The merciless sun is all I feel



II

The quest for the rose is not for naught

Trudging on though Childe I am not

Sword, shield and amour I wore

'On my honor i will not fail' I swore



III

'Fail thee must and fail thee will'

A voice disembodied, a chill

Brandish my sword to nothingness I did

The thing i killed was time and not it



IV

'Protect the rose, I must! For fear, I not'

'Heed me! To go on, then fool thou art'

'If death awaits then conquer it i shall'

'Then go, For to the rose thee shall fall'



V

The voice, haunting, drifting, drifting, gone

Arduous my task the life of the lone

Childe I am not, wordslinger i am

The rose, the rose, will you save or will you damn



VI

Blood, blood, blood, all in my way i slew

The rose awaits this knowledge i knew

So close to the rose, its whisper i could hear

Doubt, fear, confusion surfaced as i near



VII

'Fool indeed thou art to come to the rose'

'Show thyself coward' I cried my defiance

Face my adversary I did, for the enemy was me

'Turn back! The rose belongs not to thee"




VIII

Steel to steel, dust to dust, blood shall flow

Perished my dark side was and behold the rose

The beautiful pink rose, defenses long forgotten

So long have i dreamed of it, so long, so long




IX

Pain, agony, my heart , the thorns pierced my heart

To the rose thee shall fall and to the to the rose i fell

The word slinger, pierced, crushed and broken by the rose

No more! No more! The word slinger slain by the rose



X

Darkness, Emptiness, Void, Nothing, Nothing

Pain, death, air! Breath I must and breath I did

The rain was falling, i laid on the dirt, petal and thorns

Death conquered but the rose was gone



XI

The rain has stopped my heart still aches

The rose, the rose where have thou gone

Petal and thorns, Petal and thorns

The word slinger to the rose came, his journey never ends