Beauty suffers. Why?
Hearts and minds who love beauty suffer. Why?
Something about this world does that to beauty.
i.e. real beauty. Not all that glitters is gold. In fact, most of the world’s prettiest glitters are just loud shadows that are fake and temporary. “Temporary, sure, but fake? Can you really call it that when it really exists right now?” Well yeah, because I think that to be real—like really real—it’s got to never end. Idk about you, but I’m not here for passing wisps that end up meaningless in retrospect on my deathbed. I can’t afford to waste the passing wisp that is my own fragile span of feeble breath on chasing facades. No, I’m here for the forever—the stuff that I’ll be grateful for on my deathbed because I know that they’ll come with me after I get up from it (and I will get up from it). I’m here for the everlasting. Thus, I seek undying, holy beauty and nothing less. Such beauty exists I tell you, and I need it; I was made for it.
