I Love the World

The world has beauty, as a fire flickers and dies out, as the ramparts and spires of an old castle lay in ruins, as an older woman who's eyes, even as they dim, luster with the youth of a child, the beauty that lies in no longer, in days past, the grandeur of what isn't, what was. The world it fades, no longer do its waters flow from source to sea, nor do the animals freely roam, nor do we. Our life is this moment, we exist never in the past nor in the future, the beauty of the world we seek to capture through means, we look through blurry lenses at the world, hoping for it be more than it was, more than it is. We allow ourselves to wonder and the world takes a new form, the shadows of colossi appear larger than the creations themselves. Our minds find ways to create in the world what the world has not been, not as a sculptor to clay, but as stone to sculptors, it exists indefinitely, compelling dimensions and distinctions, the stones. So is it now, when we want from the world what is not, it becomes and still, at the same time, always was. The world creates beauty, it is the essence of it.