Death: The Creator of Beauty.

 

Beata Ludovica Albertoni, 1671-74, Marble, Gian Lorenzo Bernini

   Throughout the progression of Professor Sexson's Mythology class, he has said many times that we should cherish those who are elderly, because they won't be here for long. The fact that they are at the sunset of their time is what makes them beautiful. This always gave me a melancholy sense of happiness and made me think. If an object or a being cannot perish, then there is little to no beauty in them. (This is why we do not marvel at artificial flowers). So after hearing this and coming to this conclusion, I think it is fair to say that beauty can only grow as the years progress. With each passing day, and individuals value grows exponentially. A persons true beauty is never realized until it cannot be experienced anymore.

Just like the dahlia
Death comes in all its beauty

And so I stroke her petals
Push my feet root-deep
Into the composted soil
As weary clouds unite
Coalesce
Darken through the greys
In preparation

Incontinence prevails
Lachrymose in empathy

They cry for me
Sharing tears
Mortality brings
As twilight closes

I rot
(They fade)

To be the plant
(They'll water)

Struggle thro' my fantasy
To seal the state of mind

That I of soul
Remain eternal

Back on the windowsill
A daffodil stretches
From a bulbous foot

Flirts like a ballerina

STOPS

Wonders of the world

My cat hears the brassy thoughts
From yellow trumpet
Pricks up his ears
Iridescent eyes
Focussed on the future

I'll wait
For his appraisal

-Mark Slaughter