They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

I seen this ****** photograph once, taken in lovely black and white
A beautiful figure framed by shadows,
A beautiful young dark-haired girl naked
kneeling on a stairway
With one hand draped across her *******
As if protecting herself from something, maybe even shielding her heart
Her face, it is turned away to one side
And buried in her other hand
As if she's suffering some great distress or sorrow,
Far from arousing in me ****** feelings, this photograph
It spoke to me of something else
Something quite different and much more significant
More than mere words could possibly say
It spoke to me...it spoke to me of my whole life.

Her body there, so youthful, beautiful without a blemish
Her lovely contours and curves smooth like the sand dunes of a desert
Her beautiful face made sad
Her petite delicate little shoulders and arms
Her wonderful *******, her lovely tummy/belly, the roundness of her hips
The bones of her knees jutting out from where she was kneeling
Her thighs and calves resting upon one another
Her ankles and little feet tucked in behind
Here was Youth in all its glorious splendor... and innocence
With all its wonderful promise,
Strangely, it reminded me of my own Youth and my own body once
Before age and the World had done their damage
This wonderful garment thrown over our eyes and our bones
And I remembered myself as a little child, running across the beach... across the strand
And I was talking to my legs, saying, "Come on legs! Faster! Faster!"
And I was hitting my hip with my hand as if it were a whip
And as if my legs were those of a horse galloping
Just like in the old Westerns we used watch (on TV)
Yes! There was a time once when I used to talk to my body, a private little world I had,
It was my closest, my most intimate friend
You'd do it when you were alone like it was the most natural thing in the world,
You needed a friend to talk to about this strange world you were in,
And then I remembered the little girl next door
They used put us together playing, us children, us being around the same age
She was such a sweet little thing, the way she used to laugh and smile all the time
Like the cutest little kitten
The joy in her eyes and that smile of hers
Where was it coming from... somewhere inside, somewhere within
And then I remembered, I too had it once, that same joy, that same smile
It had lived in me too once... that bliss.

                              2

That photograph, it struck me as being something almost holy
It reminded me straightaway, it reminded me of the Garden of Eden story
The beautiful body had been the Garden you see
And in the Garden there was no fear and no danger
Like a little kitten lolling about, rolling on its belly and stretching itself out
Without a worry or a care
Without a cloud on its horizon
A beautiful magical kingdom before the Mind ever existed.

But now looking again at the photograph and at her face made sad buried there in her hand
Now the photograph was telling me
Suddenly, all at once, there came a day and a shadow
Something from outside, it had entered her mind, some ugliness from the world
It had disturbed her for the first time
And this was a new sensation to her
And it had frightened her
"How could such a dark ugly thing exist", she was wondering,
'And how can I live now with this in my world,
Now that I've seen it, it will always be there",
And then another memory came back to me, That of myself as a little child lying in bed
Shaking my head from side to side, even bumping my head against the wall
There was something there in my head I didn't like, something I didn't want to hear or see, something disturbing
I didn't want it there, I wanted it to go away
I wanted it to stop,
But it wouldn't stop and it wouldn't go away
And you realised it'd always be there like some shadow hovering in the background.

                                3

Now dark clouds were beginning to gather over the Garden and the beautiful Body
Now the World was coming and the Tyranny, the Tyranny of the Mind was beginning
The Gates of the Garden, they were slowly starting to close
Yea, the fields of Arcadia were fading, the exotic fruits and feelings there were being taken away
Its lovely sweet river of ambrosia would now soon cease to flow.

Like the Snow Queen and her Icy Blizzard, like a cruel invading army
The Mind had awoken now like a sleeping dragon and the World, it was coming, coming now to feed
Starting to pour in like through a breached dam
The World with all its books and its lessons, its rules and examinations
The mental world forcefully asserting itself
With its bullying cajoling teachers and its many humiliations,
The Mind weighing down hard now upon the Body, leaning on it, squeezing it and straining it
Pulling it this way and that, hither and thither
All out of shape, all over the place
Rivers of outside influences flowing in now
You were like a tiny boat tossed upon stupendous waves
Always at the mercy of other people's words
Blown all over the place
Sometimes, sometimes I just couldn't stomach it, I couldn't digest it
Sometimes I could only just throw it all up.

                                   4

The Beautiful Body... Garden no longer, now just some hollow empty shell
The Mind alone was all that mattered now
All consuming and all devouring
The Body starting to buckle and to crumble
Underneath all that weight, the stress and the strain
Not knowing how to deal with it....lost and bewildered
Among the new feelings of emptiness and of pain
Overeating and undereating, unable to eat at all
Growing fat thinking that that could protect you from all the new fears in your brain.

                                5

The Body that beautiful Garden with its golden days
Were now long gone and forgotten
Thorns and briars had grown up in their stead
Just like some long lost fairytale Sleeping Beauty.
Made poor now and impoverished
I remembered... I had been a King once long ago back in my old Garden.

(The faint joys of the Mind y'know they were nothing in comparison
To what I'd known in that sweet Garden of old, that sweet Garden of mine).

Now when I look in the mirror I can hardly see myself anymore
But when I look at this photograph
I can see myself there.

Why do people who share the same sky behave so differently? Is it the soil in which people grow their food or the water they drink that causes them to behave differently from others?

Craft a strong character in your mind
Portray the character
With practice
You will become the character

Of all the loves in the history of the world, ours was a one that could not be.

Like a newborn child dying the moment it is born, like a flower dropping to the ground the moment it blooms, like a fire put off the moment it begins burning,

Our affections were robbed of a life!

But maybe that is why, this blank space, this nothingness would cherish our love...
Because out of all the loves that stood, ours stood out more.

It was not a smooth trail of ink that took the shape of letters.
It was a blot of ink, a gigantic one that could not take a form and yet left behind a stain for the world to remember-Of a love that stirred hearts only to put them to sleep!