Tone of Beauty

In the arms of an angel, I somehow remain constant. I am a possession of some supernatural being, although it does not seem to be Him, or a

Lord, just a work of a Lord. Just a pure presence, an undiluted spirit, a divine specter. No matter the quantity of tears that descend, regardless

the pain i consume, spite the torture my mind absorbs, i still abide with strength and ambition. The drive of success is not the drive towards a

satisfying life, or wealthiness, or even class. Its to capture the mind of rarity, to be able to believe clearly (not think). The ability to reject the

tainted mind does not even meet any value. Open eyes are all i desire, I do not wish to alter my fate, or to innovate the road of life. I want to

walk the path with a vision of clarity and observe how green and beautiful it is. This angel is slowly prying my eyes open to happiness not in the

body, but in my spirit. If only i could share or translate into words how the feeling is, to see unlike the rest, to capture the dream we live. It is

not the habitation of us that composes the tone of beauty here, it is what was already here, and never here simultaneously. My 6 senses have no comparison to

my 7th sense. Why i was given this gift still perplexes me, but you do not require reason when you have sight...

Original Creation - 9/2/2014