can you talk about the beauty in a soul?
the little piece of heaven that came to earth to name herself,
the purest of emanation from a simple form of good,
producing an artist’s soul, creator of the most beautiful work of art:
herself! a transcendent thing.
joy! joy and beauty are concepts often related
surely, to look at her is to experience one and see the other;
to look at her is to have one’s heart struggle to decide on its continued beating
yet i fear i digress, and i must complete my thesis;
joy and beauty are rapturous things, that each create the other.
to carry such joy in one’s aura; is that a beautiful soul?
if so, to call her soul picturesque would be a disservice
such ideological joy, instilled within her person, to enlighten those around her
the brush strokes of her touch painting the world almost as beautiful a colour as her.
but something more beautiful than her - there is certainly nothing i can bring to mind.
she, to make obvious my whole intent, is worth poetry.
to wax poetic on her divinity has no natural end, not for me.
truly, the truest of beauties oft lie in the mundane;
in these wonderful curls of hair
and this smile that will forever light up the world around her.