The pearlescent clouds swirl like an angelic ocean of trancendent souls in the sky. In this, there is beauty, the cloud itself is inpercievably inwardly complex.
Not only that, but the clouds spawn beauty, their tears fall to the ground and in doing so create prismatic rainbows, erode the ground into deep valleys, give life to feilds of flowers, and wet the parched mouth of the thirsty child.
In sentience there is more beauty, first in the emotions sparked from the beauty of the distant clouds, ectasy at the wonder, pain that we will never truly know the clouds, hope and fear, generosity and avarice, love and hate.
And secondly, in the poetry and books we write about the clouds. That can go on to produce more emotions, beauty is infectious, it spreads through sight and words and once all is done, everything is beautiful.
