Souvenir of an exalted moment

The thrill of a uninhibited flight is known only to a incorrigible romantic. White is the colour of his sails and blue the colur of his ocean. The azure emptiness of his skies when he sets out to sail is coloured by the rainbows of his illusions.
The imagination is what colors it…
And when the mirage is broken all the colors he spilled in blue emptiness fall to the ground as some illegible, gauche, dimensionless black scribble. Only as a reminder of a thought that soared right up there, in the skies staring blank in wonderment, bathing in the beauty of the moment.

Art will always be an imitation. Literature would just be a counterfeit of what a human feels for existence or the way it should be. Just an incomplete reproduction of man’s metaphysical stance. Even the most skillful of masters cannot capture in totality what they felt when the idea dawned on them quietly or with the blaze of a stricken matchstick.

There is no individual person in us per se. We are all patterns of multitudes that we carry within. A vague pattern of which makes an individual. So in ourselves we have the capacity of feeling beauty and creating beauty. The part which Apollonius rules.
In ourselves we have the capacity of turning into beasts with the urges of the flesh and the hunger of our insatiable bodies and souls. Everything that would be base for the privilege of being a human as there is surely a division based on certain attributes what makes an animal an animal and human a more developed expression of nature. When the base human takes over, in certain collusion with Bacchus Dionysius rules here.

There are times in life when you fall completely in the realm of all the sublimity that a human can experience. Communion with God or the sense of God , Oneness with nature, madly in love when the ego is razed to the ground, an idea which stimulates the innate delight of discovering something new, a feeling akin to standing on a precipice perhaps on the edge of a mountain or may be while meditating on Vivekanad rock.This is when art might peek in. Just to keep a souvenir of that exalted moment. That is the time when Apollonius smiles.