The meG I dnuoF

by Phoenix Thu Jun 25, 2015 4:13 am

I'm not particularly sure if I want to work this one into Plus Qu'une Histoire somehow, so I'm just going to post it here for now. This one came over me on the way home after a pretty long day of thinking.

'In the midst of a journey not long ago, I happened upon a peculiar stone - rosy, fragile, and opalescent in nature. Having an eye for the unique, I collected it and brought it along with me. It had accumulated terrible amounts of dust and dirt on its surface, having undoubtedly been sitting for years, but after a careful polishing I managed to restore it to a more presentable form. The stone, now more like a gem, glittered when caressed by sunbeams and glowed under silken strands of moonlight. It seemed to emanate a song. If I listened closely, I could hear the stone recite endless stories - the fibres of the universe seemed to cross its surface like skilled hands on an instrument, only to rebound into space.
The stone was beautiful.
And, as quickly as I had found it, the stone was gone. It slipped from my hands onto the ground, its own weight shattering it on impact. And yet....
The stone was beautiful.
I questioned why the stone's demise had not taken away the beauty of its existence. What does it mean to exist beautifully if beauty can not last forever?
As I grieved the loss of my stone, the answer came to me. The purpose of beauty is to simply be. The stone existed beautifully, and then in the next moment did not exist, also beautifully. I took small fragments of my stone and crushed them in my hands, for now I understood: It is impossible to strip away beauty, for what is beautiful is immortalised no matter how long it has existed.
And as I reached the end of my journey and ventured home, I scattered the dust of my stone along the pathways.
For it is the duty of that which is beautiful to confer beauty to other things, so they may also be immortal.' ~ I'm not sure yet.