Reaching For the Stars
Often I think of beauty and of my pursuit of it. On the forefront of my mind rests the picture and pursuit of fiery horizons, conversational voices, altering leaves, familiar faces and starry skies. Beauty is present each moment of each day. It buries itself in every familiarity, and beckons to be rescued. It calls from across the landscape, and from within the wood; it speaks on the phone, and in the mail; it shines from the sun and off the moon, but always seems so far away.
Beauty is like the stars, always shining – breathing constantly – but never to be reached. Yet, the pursuit is as constant as the stars, and each thought is a new sketch on the blueprint for the rocket ship. As beauty beckons I will pursue. Not because I understand it, but, quite the opposite, because I long to understand it – I long to know it, encounter it, uncover it, rescue it. One fights toward beauty, not because he knows it and must save it, but because to him it is a mystery; it is an unmatched loveliness, and something worth fighting for.
To him it is folly to speak of not reaching the stars.