There has never been a time in my past when, as a child, I could not positively state how joyful I was to have the ability to sense all of everything surrounding me. My memory is abundantly clear, as I am still able to recall it, with young happiness. My childhood was home to a smaller amount of interrupt than most of those whom I’ve met hence. I am exceedingly grateful for that, may it be known. This evening I happened to be well-in a recently purchased novel when I realized that my gaze had been affixed to what lay beyond my window.
“You know who doesn’t mind posing for ages,
awaiting the final strokes of the painter?
Am I the painter?
Who am I to own the vision of beauty?
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, yes..
but surely the soil beneath our soles would not be as lush as it stands before me now
if it weren’t for the green hands tipping the long arms of mother nature.
These tall natives give birth world-wide..
and all within a whisper.
If I am not the painter….
[and when my lungs exhale the gift opposite to the one the Trees grant us forms no being such as myself..]
then mustn’t I be the one who observes?”
I am not a creator. I am one who admires, listens, observes, learns and speaks only but of lessons learned. I am made to perform little else. Am I to be blamed for my lack of pride and vanity? I shall think not, and hope not. Especially when I have been a victim of the beauty of this earth more times than the number of people who accept the beauty that exists around them instead of the “beauty” they engross themselves with. We are humans. We are still animals, yes; therefore, we do forget the gifts we have. If we forget our natural beauty, then we certainly would forget how to use them.
Our senses do not exist for no reason at all. This is the balance of humanism. Everything is balanced. For those of us who know, we have ears. If a blind man can not see the leaves change colour, he may hear them fall. For, those of us who know, we have eyes. If a deaf man can not hear the whirling air, he may see the invisible force moving the colours around him. For, those of us who know, we have nostrils. If a man can not smell the ever-changing air, he may taste all other nourishment surpassingly. I find this next equation the second most sorrowful loss ever to befall upon a man. For those of us who know, we have nerves. If a man can not feel, he may only learn through trust. Lastly, if a man can not accept truth through only his mind, than he may not see, hear, smell, taste, or feel substance of any depth, and therefore, he may not know himself as man.
In summary, I experienced a beautiful day. The coming Autumn is here and I swear to learn the every molecule of its pattern, so as to commit it to memory, and worship the fact of it throughout my whole being. I am blessed, shall I say on a limb, to be rooted in such a beautiful area of the world. I extend that statement with no ignorance. I know far more than my fellow friends, that what exists beyond my understanding may be far more beautiful than I know beauty to be. I hope one day to experience that.
In the meantime, here is a photograph of the sunset I saw from my second-story porch; As well, I captured a video to accompany the photograph. I am uncertain as to the colour. I apologize for the unrealistic look it has, I assure you I intended the video for entirely more surreal effects. None the less, I hope I am not the only one who was blessed with a picturesque vision tonight, or any night. May all your eyes be opened, and may all of what you see be truth.
An Evening. Vannathan Hugh Light is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.