Symphonica: Movement I

Beauty is all around. From the intricately placed stones of the cathedral, to the undulating sound of the swaying forest. From the deeply scented gust across the seas, to a lover's suspiring and lambent eyes, shot through with aniline colours. Beauty can be found everywhere, even for the untrained. You need merely look around and you are blinded by the glare.

But what is beauty but the antithesis of monstrosity? Could we find beauty in the repulsive things of our world, in the obsidian threads of history? Is there beauty in the heavy machines of industry? In the religious crusade, in the jihads? Can beauty be found in Mussolini, in Mugabe? In Hitler?
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder". But who is the beholder of ugliness, of evil? Perhaps suffering is beauty in their eyes, is pain and anguish the myriad hues of the garden. Perhaps even we can find within ourselves the beauty and splendour of abominations, like etiolated flowers, wilting in the deep desert of our beings.

Still, we can take comfort in what is around us. The simple things. A single scent, a lingering note. A touch. For they are the truly beautiful in this, our modern world.