8.15.2003 :::
 
My desire to find and join with beauty is escalating rapidly. My heart is tired of happening upon beauty at random. I am in a desert, and I need an oasis, not chance happenings across pools. True, I would have perished long before had such pools not existed, but always I feel like a transient, taking only what I need to stay alive from something to which I have no right. I long to plunge into water I may call my own, drinking deeply of its sweet draught, immersing myself in its wondrous embrace. It has been over two years since I last held a girl in my arms, and they ache with remembrance and denial. My spirit burns with hope that my thirst may soon be quenched.

Some may think my desire for beauty is too specific, and to an extent I can understand this position. It is true beauty is all around me, and I drink of it as deeply as I may. However, the beauty of a sunset, a starlit sky, or a robin's breast can't be realized with all my senses. I see wildflowers in bloom, but I don't hear them. I hear a beautiful piece of music, but I don't smell it.

In this, the beauty of a woman is unique. Were there some girl I could call my own, her beauty would be so much more real to me. I could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice, smell it in her hair, touch it on her cheek, taste it in her kiss. I could even perceive it in the mystery of the sixth sense when I feel her love. A woman's beauty also bears another form of exclusivity: her true and complete beauty can only be known by me. No other man would know her as I would. None would have the opportunity to drink long and deep from her eyes, her lips, her spirit.

::: posted by Peter at 03:17