From The Alice Chronicles 

Samuel looked over the picture. It was the picture he had waited for. How long? He could no longer say, years, decades… maybe it was centuries. The picture was faded, darkened with an amber hue. It was as though it was from another world… And it was. It was from the other side of the Looking Glass - the human side.

Samuel gazed at the picture – rapt in attention. Yes, she was beautiful. A beauty like none he had ever seen before. 

He looked at his arm. It was changing, the hair was growing thicker. He knew the time was short. He picked up the quill, opened the ink bottle, dipped the tip into the black pool. There was no choice, the parchment was blank. He began to write as quickly as he could.
 

Your beauty possesses a tremulous yearning, set in the gentle pursing of your lips, the arch of your neck, the rise of your cheek and most of all in the softness of your eyes. Your beauty is of another age, as though you were a romantic heroine in a newly discovered manuscript of another century. Your beauty is the made from the matter from which dreams are weaved – and thus so bewitching.


If it be true, as so oft professed, that the eyes are the portals to the soul, then these eyes are the true incandescence where beauty resides. For your eyes seem filled with a gentle sadness, but not of darkness or unhappiness, but a yearning of knowing that just beyond the next horizon there will be found at long last a truer love.


The eyes of your yearning are born of the beauty of perception and intelligence – perceptive will that cannot help but see the very depths of another’s soul - a perception that yearns to know another so well that they are taken and absorbed into your being. That is your power, your mystery - a yearning that seeps into every crevice, every hidden recess of your lovers’ souls. It is your power with every man, because from that yearning there is nowhere to hide. And thus we, one and all, are bewitched - haunted by your specter for eternity.


Your eyes possess still another power that emerges from the discipline of your art, of one who knows what it is to ply a craft from morn till night, so that you are the art – and instrument of the will. Your beauty is revelatory, for there also stands the artist, strong enough to have laid bare the depths of who you truly are to yourself, yet so pliant to as to meld, command and to take over another’s music. For under that gentle appearance of yearning is a steely will that will never ever let you leave its audience untouched.


Yet within this yearning there is also a countenance of beckoning – a wistful wishing from another time – a temptation to a dreamscape of languorous, lotus-drenched lake filled with a watery consciousness whose depth has no end.


Though your eyes, so beautiful, also seem to seek surrender to that very same art that was the stern crafter of your gifts – to release your magic and power and lay yourself bare before another.  


For we both know what is transcendent beauty. That we have tasted. It is no dream, it is real. It begins with the deepest of yearnings, an unmet craving that steps beyond any fleshly desire.  Its achievement can only be had through the richness of our loves. So are these eyes of beauty that which is beyond the bond of body? For what I see in your eyes is eternal – a recognition of the beauty that is you – and me - yet beyond both me or you.


"Melody is Man’s yearning unto Heaven. Harmony is God’s answer unto Man"




 

Copyright 2014 Stuart Diamond