Is it the color or the light?
Is it the soft or gentle?
Is it inward or outward?
All the pretty things, are unfadable, untouchable and transcendent.
If I took the time to think about it, “It” would pass me by. For “It” finds me before I even sought to look.
Heartfelt treasures cannot be stored in parchment or jade, they are more resilient than the most luminous mineral and more timeless than words could ever maintain. But who am I to complain? For there seems nothing more romantic than a weathered book, scorched by the hands of time or anything more transcendent then a string of jade.
The Word, are seeds and our bodies are the soil. How we treat our bodies and the bodies of others, with respect, discipline and value in the gifts of our body, will exercise our ability to distinguish weeds posing as flowers.