Song Series

Beautiful Now

He inhales, slowly taken to the beating of life. Of all the ups and downs that has prevailed on his way, none has encumbered him, thwrated him, drained him to his bone. A grown boy, flying his nest, flowing his life on the rivers and roads of nowhere, tasting and savoring every single second of his carefree life. Any typical and atypical boy can find that phase in his life, being oblivious to what is anticipating for him.

His idiosyncrasies are various. He stares at beautiful girls - boys do it all the time, sometimes too uncloggedly, rendering a minute of awkward and pregnant silence. He jokes at the seemingly naive girls, inadvertently (or sometimes not) aggrieve her in as many feasible ways as possible, or even in rare cases the girl will enjoy the jokes he makes - a kind of Stockholm syndrome, yet a more adorable and hoped-for version - and be superficially attracted. He is not, however, into ladies, but once he has grown, he will find out more about how his brain has changed. For now, such provocation he could not fathom, or at least fully understand.

His company is a perfect combination of classiness and sexiness. Or one may put it, overt and covert. Nothing more than infatuation will describe it perfectly - they have just met, but she has metamorphosed definitely into a lodestone. She has gravitational pull radiated from within. She is his. Tonight.

The pulchritude of hers and her dress is such that he keeps the commonly bizarre stare at her. He holds his breath. He exhales, and inhales, and unlike any other incidents that force him to heavily breathe in and out, this is something. A definite up in his life. A thing he never anticipated for, but now he wants to never part with.

"Is there a thing to know surfaced by that glamor?" asks himself. The gaze turns into a gaze of more emotional and reflective values, of rather great depth. Contemplating on the profundity as he is, he soon realizes the anomalous thinking he is struck in. Is this for real, on account of what springs up in his mind? May be he has turned incorporeal. Or he is for once gawking insolently to decipher what is beneath it?

On the other side, staring though he might be, awe-inspiringly thought his words of forgive me might be, the tautological truth is their beauty. He is, she is. They are. We all are. In this moment, whether he might be lavishing his money and his thoughts on the frivolous or the esoteric themes, he is beautiful.

We might not know why

We might not know how

But baby, tonight

We're beautiful now

Yes, however strange it might come across, in this world, we are all beautiful entities. We may originate from different races, have different genders, joining different religions, holding different perspectives, fighting different obstacles, and a lot more, but all in all, we are the gist of the Earth, the cream of the crop, the most beautiful things alive. Beauty surely knows no bounds.

Even if we are strangers, still remain we human beings, and together we are beautiful. In this very moment, we are. We are beautiful now.

We'll light up the skies

And open the clouds

Cause baby tonight

We're beautiful now

The interconnection of minds is celestially sublime. There are theories and doctrines that highlight the beauty of mind. One believes our brains resemble the galaxy. Neurons are stars. Each of us is possessed of our own galaxy - grandiose, inimitable. Then there is pantheism, a widely prosetylised belief, which states that God is ubiquitous, omnipresent in all of us: God is in you, God is in me. Our brain functions so admirably that the great grand above is the only thing worthy of comparison.

When our minds are connected, even if this is the first time we clap eyes on each other, we are stars lighting up the sky. We are how the world brightens, how the love spreads. We make the day start its rejoicing journey by pulling the sun out of the shading clouds.

He is indeed despondent, hankering after love, care and passion. All of them are treasures to him, and if I am not mistaken, they are so to all. At the end of the day, the invaluables stay, and needless to reiterate, it is the love, care and passion. Yet this treasure is not so easy to keep. It runs without legs, and is willing to injure us. He has the option of chasing it relentlessly, which might consume his stamina woefully, or he might hold his place, flee from what is fleeing from him, fleeing from what is the only left of him.

He chooses wisely, that is to chase the love wherever it's going. He is not going to waste what's left of this moment, left of the treasure he has longed for so arduously. The treasure might simply be the love: ephemeral, but ecstatic. The treasure might be more than love, in this case more specific: the girl. The girl with the covertly overt dress mesmerizing his poorly fed eyes. Her body is gold, her hair is diamond, her flesh is sapphire, her poise is emerald - she is what defines amazement. At least for now when both are beautiful, beyond the realms of comprehension.

Stranded together

Our worlds have collided

This won't be forever

So why try to fight it?

He acknowledges that this moment of crossed souls will not last, analogous to any other fleeting infatuations. But here is the thing: if the treasure is that elusive, if it is bound to run away, what is then the reason to struggle so hard to keep the euphoria running? Why don't we cherish this moment of climax? He is a castaway, deserted on an island of life, with the quicksand all around ready to pull him down every single bit, and a jungle of too many possible hindrances and predators; therefore, the chance rendezvous with such a person is so rare a case. God has bestowed upon the destitute a chance, a slight ray of hope, a light marking the end of the tunnel. For him, the end is too far from reachable, so he takes that ray of hope as a chance to renovate, to renew, to beautify himself.

You might say he is epicurean, but he is who he is. That is why he is beautiful, now.

Everything must come to an end, and when it comes to the end of a momentary climax, the scarlet blossom withers fast. In this case, we may see the wilting of one flower as the blooming of another. At a time we only need a gorgeous flower to light up the garden of love.

Let's live tonight

Like fireflies

And one by one

LIght up the sky

We'd disappear

And pass the crown

You're beautiful, you're beautiful

In this world of billions of people accommodating, there are many more like our guy: lost his bearings, caught unawares, straying from a decent life. They do endeavor to reach the state of climax, presumably, to find the hidden treasure, but they are not to shine yet. There will be a time to which they are enthroned, given the crown, the chance to blossom, to sparkle, either outward or inward. Because no matter their position is, at this very moment, this very momentous moment, they are proudly, mentally and physically, beautiful.