His question for me was "do you see the beauty in life?"
And I said "no."
He asked again if I saw beauty in the world.
I asked "was beauty simply a masquerade dance?
Was everything always just a word and a description?"
I didn't see beauty since it wasn't possible.
I saw a monotonous echo of bright wonders rolled over my head and the seed, out of center view, was a blushing blaze of white that I love but bask away from to keep from singing my sight.
But why would we hide from true beauty?