She Is Beautiful

2021-06-07 · essays

She opened a song. A Mozart if I remember well.

“Would you like to dance?” She said while her breathtaking golden hair flew behind her.
“Absolutely,” I said.

She held his hands and led him to dance.
The green began to spin around. The colors blur.
They danced across the land, over the debauchery, under the moon, and below the stars.
The area echoed with the sound of their reckless ideas. Nothing matters now
He remembered when he saw her at the lecture. He remembered the professor.
He remembered his parents.
He remembered his life.

He remembered his being-profound game, he knew now how silly everything is.
They moved to the cliff. Feat stepping in a perfect time starts spinning at a dizzying pace.
They danced to the nihilist music, long into the night, until he believed that nothing ever mattered, never will.
He saw into the heart of things now and knew how imbecile he was.
Everything is suffering and even that does not matter. It’s all a facade.
He remembered his word game.
He had always tried to find the perfect meaning to everything, the perfect adjective, the perfect word, the quintessence of all.
He remembered that he tried to find the perfect word to describe her.

He now knows.
How simple it was. How simple it is.
She is beautiful.