Artist's Eyes

How I marvel at the beauties of the natural world... An interesting conversation passed between my Grandmother and I a couple of days ago. As with everything, my proofreading and introspection system is just now catching up to what we said. It seems every time I drive home, I make some remark about how awesome the mountains are. She said it was interesting that I thought so much of scenery. She found it unique that a young man/boy would care so much about the natural beauty in landscapes. Initial I accepted this as fact and moved on through the day. Now I find myself thinking about what we implied together.

 Im of the mind that timeless things hold a certain attraction. Age and wisdom is a love of mine that holds her hand just out of reach. "She" is beautiful in the extreme but can never be fully mine without paying for her affections with my life. So if I cannot have my impossible love, perhaps beauty will be my bride. I think we all come to this understanding eventually. As little children in an ancient world, we must simply concede that there are somethings we will never fully grasp. The dichotomy of time, moving so fast and never really moving at all, places us in a boundless confusion. We are sojourners to this world. Meant to live forever and love forever, but built to die too soon. Its times like these I come to fully name the differences between how I see the world and how those around me do. This life is a shadow of all that was intended. The good earth is all that remains of what was once perfect.

 And so I wonder, when those of my age look at the delicate colors clothing a flower, or the algorithmic symmetry of its petals, do they see the same reflection of hope,perfection, and enduring expression of faith in beauty that I do? Does any other 18 year old kid look upon the mountains and see the impossibilities of our existence becoming suddenly and everlastingly possible?