O Beauty — arriving in flavors like sunlight on snow or cream of asparagus or Mozart — you are meaningless to those who seek control: Don’t explain anything. Reveal what has been here all along. Flood our confusion until we erode into mystery.
O Beauty, reveal us.
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I’ve always wished to visit Antelope Canyon. Have you been there?
“[Beauty is] meaningless to those who seek control.” This thought arrests me. Control and Beauty can’t/don’t really coexist, do they?