Ode to Beautifica

 

The iron gates of logic swing wide and rust away, As the mind unspools its heavy thread into the light of day. A sudden breath—a tangible release—where thought becomes a wing, And in this hollowed, quiet space, the vibrant colors sing.

The Fusion of Light and Loam

The sky descends in ribbons of pulsating violet and gold, No longer distant, but a fabric for the fingers to hold. Through the art of illusion, the spectrum begins to bleed, Sowing neon luminescence into the humble, earthly seed. The oak tree wears a crown of fire, yet its roots remain in clay, As electric indigo vines through the forest floor find their way.

• The Sound: A low, thrumming hum, like the earth’s own steady heart.

• The Sight: Emerald moss glowing with the heat of a dying star.

• The Sensation: The smell of rain-drenched soil meeting the scent of ozone.

The Great Intertwining

Here, the solid bark dissolves into a melody of sight, A rare look at the fusion where the morning meets the night. Petals of crimson vibrate with the frequency of a bell, Ringing out a truth that only the liberated mind can tell. Is the mountain truly stone, or a thought draped in a shroud? Is the river flowing water, or a fallen, liquid cloud?

The Creator’s Masterpiece

We drift within the masterpiece, the blurring of the line, Where the tangible and the spectral so perfectly entwine. The Creator’s hand has vanished, leaving only the design, A question posed in color: What is yours, and what is Mine?

Reality is but a canvas that has finally come undone, Where the earthiness of nature and the dream are joined as one. In this Beautifica, the soul is finally unconfined, Lost within the brilliant, breathing freedom of the mind.