|
once upon a time, there was a koi living in the middle of the desert. (we do not ask how) on the evening that the three wisemen, accompanied by princess leigh-cheri herself wandered by, following the holy star, the koi said to the princess, "the real question is not 'how does one make love stay?', but really, 'how does one make beauty stay?'. to the three wisemen, the koi said, 'you will be quite disappointed to find that your messiah is really a girl.'
there is no account of the conversation that followed. and there is no end to this tale. it simply stops there. much like an adventurous cat reaching the edge of the earth. (unless of course, the cat decides to jump off the edge, which in turn shatteres every theory we have ever had. if this were to happen, the earth would fold in half, and we would have no choice but to assume that the meaning of life is completely encompassed in a fairy tale. and if that were the case, science would have to be thrown out the window (there is nothing less romantic than science), and nations would be going to war over which fairy tale it could possibly be. religions would be formed, laws would be constructed, dogma would be instilled, and the world would take the romance out of the novel.)
a bird and a fish may love each other, but where would they live?
i refuse to believe that i am the first to answer that riddle. it is far too simple.
they will live on the beach. the fish in shallow water, the bird ankle deep in the same water. and they will have to hold their breaths sometimes. they will have to be uncomfortable sometimes. but if they truly love each other, they won't mind. they will be happy to make sacrifices for their love. and they will live happily ever after.
dear jack (or perhaps i have been too informal with you. perhaps i should call you Mr. The Ripper),
i have come to the conclusion that beauty is more intangible than love. beauty isn't something that waits on your doorstep for you in the morning. it isn't something you can keep. beauty is a killer. it moves. it breathes. it is the reason for every mistake ever made. it slips through our windows and poisons us while we are sleeping. it beats our heads against brick walls long after we've said no. it slips through our fingers the minute it hits our palms. it is the reason for every war ever faught. it is hiding in the sidewalk cracks beneath your feet, jack. it is in the graffiti on the old schoolhouse. inside the last drag of a cigarette. (or perhaps i am just girlish enough to find beauty in such things) i chased beauty for so long, love. i ran after it to europe. to mexico. and on the east coast of america, i found it, not once, but three times. tell me, jack, is there a rhyme to the way the east coast always has a way of destroying my nerves?
i cannot touch beauty. i cannot hold it. i chase it in attempt to be close to it. to touch it. i will never be beautiful. but if i can get close enough to it, perhaps i can breathe it's toxins for just a brief moment.
i am not worried about love. there will always be love. and little girls who sit by their windows at night, wishing on stars that their true love will find them, should be told that all love is true. (but then, what did aristotle say about truth?)
beauty is a killer, jack. it is a better killer than you ever were. and that disappoints me a bit. i think it is time to sharpen your blades and show beauty exactly what you can do.
art kills, mr. ripper. tell me, are you going to let it show you up?
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
disclaim_her's journal