by DJ Sprague

Op. 7   RS, BD

 Beauty of skin is instant pleasure, and even though it disappears with the blink of an eye, many endeavor or hope to forever keep, beauty skin deep. While such possession is but illusion, such illusion often prevails..until heart awakens, seeing much deeper, beauty much longer, thereafter

1  When Beauty's lines are mostly balanced, when bold strokes of contour are few and controlled, and when peculiarities are distinctive, yet contrasted and complemented well by all else, then the basics of beauty skin deep has been well met. Then one day, someone old hesitates, someone younger stops. A man suddenly turns. Repeatedly, many want to look, to peep or glance, vying for chance opportunity to touch and feel what mind has perfected. And then, one day again, she looks closer into the mirror to see what so many value, what they need, what some figment of mind desires. And perhaps at first, only for play, mind and hand take imperfections away, but most assuredly, what beauty was gained, will surely stay. And later, upon another day again, Beauty's gain has become very apparent!..that what has been given and improved is most clearly a power, what visions inspire..a craving to touch what cannot be touched, creates desire. With a web of silk, only pleasure can be given from its treasure! Pleasure for pleasure's sake does each strand intertwine with another, draping closely..falling, strictly conforming to every contour of Beauty's form. Pleasure of flesh. Desires rushing, blood flushing. Days too long, nights too short, and from wants unending do endless cravings beget cold objects within. Spirit's unrest, no place to rest. Mind and spirit, forever restless

2  When the eye has been deceived by line and shade, the power of Beauty is apparent. And without so within, does spirit become so formed. What has been given freely has become a divine right, a power..a lever, a tool for those especially, who wish to know only by suggestions of reflected light. A broken moon is made of stone. And throughout the mind's vast space, wanting and desiring, securing its ends, the seas do not rise, the tides of emotion do not flow, and time imperceptibly passes by. In perfection, in perfect order the wanting mind is, seeking perfect dark light far beyond its own sight. When light shines upon such beauty, its face is smooth and firm. Unblemished, it is the perfected center of the body, the regent of mind. The hair is dark and formally shaped. The body...long, offered, and leisurely draped. And from the center of this resplendent pillar, the mind of pride is, as clear space...empty, imposing...only void where emotion should be. And from the darkness of its deep, watching and waiting for a soul to keep, there is no place to weep..within this empty space filled with promises sweet. Resplendent beauty is haunting..yet always ready to change, or be measured, or altered to peak desire in any one's eye. And in hand with such free gifts, is the darkside of Beauty's pride that no one can fully know in this space of this place, within this palace especially made..undaunted, unbending..adorned with soft silk, the substance of dream worlds in the midst of a vast dark sea...she waits amid the pillars of her dreams..of beauty, some would endeavor to possess, unconditionally

3  A clear, crystalline clear untouched heart is the center of innocence. And when draped with the fairness of light's reflection, the life'giving waters of primordial seas bear vast treasures of emotion from every sensation, from every leisure of peace, every pleasure of joy. Such is what fills the heart of innocence..what makes simple fairness resplendent and glowing. Then, a heaviness thickens the air where beauty was moments before. A new feeling, a sensation of a larger, greater world has suddenly claimed its place in heart. "But the sun had never shown there before, and with fear's vacuous arms, a dark stillness, a heavy emptiness gripped the depths of you. Aye!..someone has perceived you truly..seeing past your eyes into a place unknown, untouched. Run! Run fast, but distance only adds weight to love and love's lost. Run if you can. Flee! from the light of your moon. All that awaits you are flowers without flavor, gardens without color. Such is the nature of the eternity before you. Run if you wish..back into those carefree days and innocents play of dreams..but look upon your horizon. There, you will find the moon, resting upon primordial waters of a silent sea, simply waiting for your return. Only a lover's emptiness you are, and love's lost you cannot otherwise but be, within the substance of your dream"

4  Rising and settling low in the sky, the moon is silent and full, and a barren branch of an arbor penetrates the stillness, as to say, "Glowing light shining full, how easily you charge so much that lives and grows. How silently you enter my deep. Your brilliant aura has taken a'hold where life boldly ventures, where Beauty endeavors to seek its destiny"

 A sleepiness is in the ethers everywhere, and the arbors, short and bare, silently waver from gentle cool breezes. Tufts of scraggly grass scattered upon barren soil seem to be the only sign of life, the only remembrance of a dream. Where has life gone? Where does it sleep? Will it be away for long? Vacant moon, undaunted stillness, your radiance weaves a delicate fabric, loosely draping, casually adorning Beauty's form. Your eyes, haunted, silent, beckons in vain for some touch, some sign of life. Reclined and withdrawn in the midst of a hollow moon, vacant eyes opening to the very deep of Beauty's soul asks, "Where is life? Where is it sleeping, so I may find it, and lay aside its warmth and eternal peace"

 Yet, what is a barren moon, but a loveless light shining down upon a sleepy life resting from itself. And since Beauty is never barren, this must simply be, winter's sleep! Lovelorn Beauty, barren moon..the arbor is bare only from the tides of stillness, and the sun's remote radiance. No need to wait and fill your repose with lovelorn gloom. Your lover shall return. Aye! Life has only gone to temporary sleep, and will soon arise to meet your wholeness willing to be adorned..and your heart, yearning to be filled

5  Alone and darken, divine care is taken, and with reverence given, she carefully, cautiously is. Being divine, she is lifeless. Being some eternity of mind, she is faceless. So still is she, her peace is firmly resolved. Unto herself, like stone. Sure of her treasure made from many sorrows, from bits of soul given, for a smile..a favor, some sentiment or blessing touch. Her peace..lifeless. Its beginning, dark and dreamless. And where does spirit live? when light enters and forever stays. Symbolic beauty is like the stillness of deep space, being no more than the dark or light some word may emit..the word, this beauty is. No matter what light shines, or darkness cast, the world inside if seen, cannot last. No light can rise from crystalline eyes where spirit has not been. Her eyes are dark, and face, shadowed, and rising high inside symbolic beauty, there is no feeling, for the body had become a pedestal divine, for what had become the property of mind

6  From within hidden folds of tender warmth, Beauty is drawn, and the mind is quartered wanting to be touched. Dear sweet pain! From one arousing touch becoming greater, consuming, becoming many, into pleasure's dark bosom will Beauty venture. And taken deeply, simply for pleasure's sake, tender touches, over and over..sweet love, Beauty would make for pleasure's bles'sed sting. Sweated by its fire, there is no measure for pleasure gained..for what is gained, an equal measure of light is given, and Beauty falls swiftly, darkly into itself. Poor and stricken with cravings, there is no end..only deep darkness when pleasure ends. And only pleasure's prickly sting can bring Beauty back for a brief eternity, on desert and dust, where lust had been beaten to death. Impaled by heated breath, Beauty is lost in swollen flesh..having grown from wanton fire, Beauty lives, but only upon a crucifix of desire

7  I saw her holding an unusual flower. Like in a dream, she was radiant and fair with dark hair rolling, curling down upon her shoulder. I sense its coolness. I feel its sweetness. And I drift even closer into the deepness of her eyes. Her aura is elegant and radiant. But somehow the spirit had left her. She is very still, suspended, in some quiet trance, her glance fixed upon a flower. Suddenly, I too, feel its fragrance. Its dark center is as compelling as its radiant elegance. And so small and delicate are the leaves that forsaken they must have been, so that the flower will open wide again..a flower now, filling me with so much pleasure that closer I must be, to its deep dark center. What is this compulsion? to seek the source of such fragrant touch it, feel open deeply and be changed by it. If only I was a gentle warm wind..that I may touch her, that she may feel the wanton air, her beauty inspires

 So often am I, drawn into its dark heart. As the wind carried the essence of this unusual flower to me, I am carried far, close'by, it seems. And soon, I am near Beauty's breaking beams. Far away, very far away from the harshness and coldness. And I see her as I see all beauty...partly seen, half hidden..soft, supple, waiting. Into this flower, am I beckoned deep, am I carried with all the sea, all the land..the misty, billowy waters above, the clear sky there..all life moving, traveling into a vanishing horizon..a journey, seeking the destiny, the sweet dark faiths, of majestic beauty

8  In that instant when the wind suddenly surged, the lower body of her hair shifted as she turned. Feeling the presence of my eyes, she permitted me to sip her vision like a fine wine. But only for an instant could I taste such fairness. This grand mansion, a temple of lush opulent fragrance, a delicate domain of exquisite beauty so radiantly adorned, and so love blessed that the gentle shear of her silk readily clings to her supple form

 My awkward mind stumbles and trips over itself contemplating her. And deadly fixed, is the faint expectation in her eyes, having turned to me, reaching..asking, becoming large and full of long hope. And I, in my abrupt manner of passing, say, "No, not I, dear one. I am only an onlooker, a passerby stopping by, to let your beauty fill my eye. And please forgive me for disturbing you. I, being able to know you only through this instant you enter me, must make you become like the crystal stillness of a looking glass mirror..becoming timeless, indelible in memory”

 What common irony is this? that, by my own moons, can I only be a brief fantasy to you. You are high in my temple, and faraway you cannot but be, so deeply buried inside your beauty. Lost within the slender grace of your fingers, within the smooth contour of your face, the clear wholeness of your eyes, within the undisturbed fullness of your lips, love is silent, unmoved, and entombed

 What strange irony this is!..that beauty can become so entombed in me, or become the tomb of love in you

 Love entombed, reaching, seeking a greater expectation than the mansion built around you..and you wanting, waiting! be more than some image with mortal memory, what more can you yearn for? but to be simply, something more than what was given you in your beginning

9  How fair she is, in her silent repose, holding a bit of stillness while the gentle winds play with small reeds in the sand. The sea is quiet and calm. The steady rhythms of waves upon the shoal is like a meditation, a chant, warming the spirits everywhere with its salty essence. The sky is clear, and from horizon to horizon, brilliant radiance from above warms soft sands by a sea

 How still the flowers are, with their broad leaves drinking deeply the radiant beams. Sweet silence in waiting they are. And a flower has opened its dark center for the special one who would enter. Is this why? the power of beauty beckons from a'far, any spirit able to enter and make fertile its seeds, so beauty may again arise? She has the sea behind her, the open sky above, and the warm soft sands beneath her. For a silent moment, she is inseparable from all that is around her

 "Radiant beauty, splendor divine..where is your special one, your true lover? Your dark gleaming hair is bounded by the cloth upon you, adorning you, as your silent repose adorns the sands by a sea. Alone, and inseparable from all, you cannot otherwise but be

 "Madam, flower in you often wonder when your lover will appear? How will you know? among the many attracted to the fullness of your breast, to the full lips adorning your face..attracted to the sweet dark depths of Beauty's the clearness of your eyes, and fairness of your face. How will you know which enchanted desire can recover enough to truly see you in your eyes? Only he who sees you, whose inner sanctum warmed and colored by you, will secure and magnify yours, for the seeds of your beauty to be nurtured, and freely be

10  The wind gently moves tiny blades of grass. Small leaves twist and quietly joust. A flat sea stirs upon its surface..subtle ripples. The great bodies of billowy clouds are free from the hold of Earth. And freely, the wind blows. Freely, the blades of grass sing, and the flowers rejoice whenever the spirits over land and sea, move them

 Beneath the heavens, day brings clear warm blue from above, and satin winds lay upon silken skin. If only this dream of freedom I feel everywhere, could break into me and become real. If only I could touch her gentle contours, perhaps her beauty deep, I could feel. She lays so complete and firm, yet still, yet living

 I know I could never touch her, because how does one caress the wind, or cup a silent ripple of the sea? How does one embrace the delicate ethers of the clouds, or this dream of freedom that wishes to forever be? Laying there, so quiet. Being of all. Feeling her from a'far, like a dream this freedom cannot be possessed. In possessing, one is possessed. And unless I turn away and leave, forever I would be indentured, by the enchantment of her dream

 And I turned to see her once see her soft subtle form, but she had disappeared with the last break of the sea..and then I the dunes that forever shift, she was only made of sand, and the substance of my imagination

11  In the dark of night, the summits of clouds shine bright. The spirits of the air are thick and heavy. Yet, so clear these ethers are, that when the clouds separate, the waters suddenly enlighten with a silvery sheen. The moon glows silent, full, and so very large that the far side of Earth is an incandescent day, sparkling the crests of breaking waves..sparkling everywhere, this boon into vanishing horizons. And high above, the misty waters are also clearly seen. They too, have been filled with incandescence of moon

 Dark night, silent glowing night, the beauty in everything suddenly radiates. From the dark of a distant past, Beauty arises adorned with its aura, ready to give, ready to receive..always willing, to do whatever pleases

 Beauty arises easily enough from the elements of Earth, from the waters, from the light of a radiant moon. And so still is this Beauty, that the waters within, easily commune with the gentle mists high, over the sea below

 Being of the waters, so easily are we spirited, so easily are we soothed by its giving nature. The moon shining radiantly full, giving its silvery aura to the sea..the sea now, far more silent than it could otherwise be, beckons Beauty to its breath and depth. Yet, Beauty is held fast, while I, like the Beauty before my eyes, also receives the spell from its potent light...subtle, gentle glow, everything awakens with your presence! In the pitch of night, soft light and gentle spirits settle upon dark ocean swells. Upon deep waters, you make the mists above, become one with the sea. In this silent light, moonspells enter easily, seeking beauty

 Sweet Beauty, I see you clear and strong. I see you...untouched, silent, and waiting, because you are the deep of the sea, like great bold winds wandering freely, you are there, like the moon moored quietly upon the sea...incandescent, radiant, and sparkling

12  A strong emptiness suddenly enters me. My spirit is lost. My mind...empty space. Into a kind of limbo I be. Of no feeling I am. Within an eternity of no free feeling, suspended am I

 The lines and subtle shadows of her face are so deeply assured, so completely curved into a radiant wholeness that each feature of her face, every lash of her eyes, every bold prominence seems an unwitting servant to her body. And most assuredly she moves, for every aspect of herself is a slave to her beauteous form

 Intimately intertwined, and forever married is boldness and grace. Moonstruck, and so taken by this mysterious, yet wondrously soft form, with fine line and simplicity of profoundly bound am I,  in this enchanted stillness, where there is no clear meaning, no aspiration, because being completely of all, is just being

 In this ebb, an emotion moves and becomes a current of feeling..untouchable, yet strong and gripping..unfathomable, yet compelling. Suspended, a part of all, the tides of emotion are, for a moment, still within a brief eternity..feeling the radiance of her beauty, feeling its radiant aura

 And so faraway is everything I touch, so detached am I from all I see that this strange vacantness possesses me. So fully and completely have I been taken, that, in this still night, looking up, I do not see the moon, as otherwise seen...I see there, quietly upon the sea, a beautiful woman. I see her lean back, close her eyes with her lips slightly parted, and dip her long dark hair, to be at one there with the moon and sea

 In the moon, I am doomed. En la luna, I feel like some empty uninhabited shell. Limp and weak..spineless and unseen at that! Her beauty radiates in the brightness of day. And I, in a silent night, can only remain still and just be..peering out from this eternity, that beauty has cast onto me

13  Beauty says..."Behold me. I am the gift of love. I am greater than the total of your pleasure. I am the quiet balm of your leisure, the treasure of your deep." Such a pleasant aura Beauty has. A quiet pose that may be as deep as life is old, or as strong as love's hold...Beauty is, in all that lives..glowing and radiating as though it was the sole purpose of existence, the primeval theme..a reverent prayer

 Beauty for Beauty's sake! Aye! Many, as well as I, would gather together and trade all the odd pieces of an entire life for a bit of beauty. Yet, what if such an ideal should suddenly incarnate, and all too quickly appear before me? The skies would darken to a brooding mood. The rains would seep into my soul to where a sculpture had been made, of perfection, of beauty so consuming that if touched, a fatal blow would be struck. And resolved to my own ideal, I would say..."Dear Beauty, please arise! Live and give of yourself only to the one who can see you truly. Please arise, and leave this blinded soul, hopelessly entombed by your radiant glow"

 Forever this now, I feel eternities are dedicated to Beauty's creation. Long life is promised for the true lover, who, while captivated by her aura, and suffering the deep dull ache from a small world suddenly grown very large and intense, suffers only, from Beauty ideal. So changed within, and forever changing if need be, for Beauty's sake

 But how much must I become a stranger to myself, to be freed from la'belle ideal? Let the divine images of Beauty live! Let them flourish within. Adorn them. Derive pleasure from them in meditation. Savor and possess the sublime sensation, the exquisite joy of beholding the final consummation of one's total values. Behold them in secreted, secluded places of mind. Caress the gentle ethers surrounding her body. Touch softly, the parting of her lips. Kiss lightly their corners. Embrace the borders, the sweet soft lines of her body. Do all of this, where Beauty is...but what if I should truly meet her? A temple had already been made. And there, forever bound am I. Yes!..the skies would darken and cry, and I, deeply empty, would say, "Begone! Beauty in youth is only skin deep, and being of mortal life, it must inevitably fade"

 And in that fading..does Beauty die? Aye!..often gone is Beauty, when love is shallow and transient. Yet, such small, savory morsels make appetite greater, for a beauty deeper, and longer lasting

14  Her lips are full, extended, and sharply defined. They are of a kind that compels me to touch them with my mind. Touching them gently, stroking them carefully onto her face. Her eyes are bold and her face is commanding. And she, knowing her beauty, allows nothing to touch her without becoming a part of her. And so woebegone would I surely be, if ever I should endeavor to enter her consuming mind. All of my past and future would instantly and forever fade, between two moons far away

 Her garment is but a trivial compliment to her delicate form. And so striking is the radiant fullness of her hair that, like her lips, I am compelled to stroke it, gently and easily, around her delicate ears, touching it onto her face

 Things of beauty are blended in perfection..blended far beyond my inclination to detect imperfection. This beauty blossoms and radiates, and she thirsts for the sun. And in that instant when the radiate heat of the sun poured down, like a flower opening its pedals to beckon free spirits into its dark center, she opens her full bodied lips, drinking deeply, as the radiance rises in a sudden surge, rising! a radiant high..and there is where I left her, because when her hair lets down under an intense sun, I know she would become a flower with such a radiate aura, that I could not withstand the command, her beauty would make. Looking into Beauty's eyes, a radiant high would enter me..and instantly, forever changed, I would be

15  Love, and sweet quiet sea, pleasant dream silent before me. Your deep is calm, loyal, and true like the sea, and the spirits aloft move easily, and freely, between the tendrils of life and your beauty

 Like the winds everywhere, freely wandering, you hope and wait for life's embrace. And with eyes bright and awake, waiting, wanting, my eyes cannot look steadily upon you

 Above, high above, sweet unseen ethers of the sea soar freely. Fresh clearness and warmth. And I, so often wishing to be there, feel strongly the waters of your soul upon this earthen floor, rich with the seeds of love's yearning

 Beauty, dear can I receive your eyes? A part of I, while embracing your delicate aura, would surely die gazing into your soul, I know, asking only for simple living

 But even in simple living, while beauty begins innocently enough, at some time it must end, to live. Such is the fate of mortal beauty, un'knowing of its beginning, nor its end

 Beauty..sweet beauty, warm radiance from above..of the moon in the sea, I wish to be of. Of eyes, clear and fair, within their deep, I may live. And from my deep, the unseen there, would willingly suffer the light, and offer its darkness. If only to behold such radiance. If only to perceive for just a passing moment, a brief eternity of Beauty's soul. Aye! For such moments, I would die a little, and while a bit of me would feel as a stranger, the rest would surely feel that it has lived

 Life arising, slowly rising..embracing, and gently entwining this Beauty's soul..carefully rising, slowly seeking its sweet stillness, this peace patiently waits for the tendrils of life to slowly embrace, and in time, reclaim what has been given

 Beauty has been freely given. Never driven, nor of Beauty, quiet sea, the waning moon promises life, a pleasant life for you and me

16  This fairness, once a blessing, was fashioned in shades of color and bold lines for the sake of another. But only does the cold last from instant pleasure. In this craving endeavor to gain and forever covet the fruits of beauty, Beauty shall swiftly, completely vanish with each blink of an eye. Into forever, did she silently weep. Into forever, did she succeed in keeping, beauty skin deep. But while she was there, someone dark also cries, under a twilight sky, and on, throughout the night. And now, the sun is falling into her eyes

 Such a pleasant aura does Beauty have. And the tides of emotion are, for a moment, still, within this brief eternity, feeling the radiance of Beauty, feeling its radiant aura. Such stillness is like the touch of silk upon new born skin..a gentle softness I cannot touch, for I cannot touch what the mind has perfected. Beneath the heavens, day brings clear warm blue from above. And the gentle winds lay upon silken waters...if only I was the wind, that I may touch and feel the moon moored quietly upon the sea, feeling the substance of dream worlds, and the shadows of mind, whispering forgotten dreams

 Beneath the night, the sky is broad, open and clear..and suspended, I am drifting over the ripples, flowing aimless upon swells of a sea. The waters contain me. The sky embraces me. And for a silent moment, Beauty gathers the brilliant beams of an early morn..this pristine essence early born, is the substance of dreams, the radiance of a star

 Such a pleasant aura does Beauty have, that it seems to be as deep as life is old. Radiant splendor, beauty divine, from high above, warm gold enters you, and the spirits within you, move easily and freely. And you glow like a new'born..radiant, all knowing. How deftly you enter me!..permeate, move me. With forsaken mind, my heart you keep. And my soul, with a radiant high from looking into your eyes, forever haunted shall I be. Your eyes, shall always persuade me

REV:  Aug 2017

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