To the Vagabond

They say beauty is only skin deep.

And that true beauty is fitted to the soul.

To these I might agree.

For simple beauty is not but a visual stimuli that releases dopamine.

And skin is only the bare surface of life and nature.

 

So with that in mind,

Do we know what true beauty is?

Can we imagine an image of something that makes us yearn for more?

Can we imagine something of that kind?

 

However there are people who have seen it,

This “true beauty”.

People like Alexander Supertramp, Everett Ruess, and I.

 

We have seen this “True beauty” and we know it looks the best with weary eyes.

We, who have wandered and trekked across mountain and desert alike.

We, who have taken on impossible missions for our own self-satisfaction.

We, who have seen the “true” bare soul of mother earth and hunger for more.

We know what true beauty is.

We know that it is not superficial,

It is not a singular image,

It is not the models you parade around, it is not the beauty of a soul,

Nor is it a definition you can make official.

It is simply not something that can be run aground.

 

True beauty is the world.

It is wandering outside, making new memories and having new adventures.

It is seeing all of the colours of nature from the darkest green to the deepest blue.

It is looking unto the vastness of space and seeing light.

It is peeling back the veil of the artificial world and seeing the splendors of life.

It is climbing to the top of a flat, desert mountain; with nothing but the shirt on your back, your unfettered soul, and your own raw and bleeding hands.

It is staring out at the horizon while on top of that mountain, just as the sun begins its departure from the day only to leave you with the gift of the beautifully scorched sky.

It is seeing that sky with eyes of weariness.

And staring at the deep warm colours of day, and the dark cool colours of the approaching night that would make even the finest cut gem revel in envy.

It is staring at the changing world and realizing that it is staring back.

It is gazing upon the desert as it turns night, with the moon casting its graceful pale blue glow and the stars lighting the way for the universe to follow.

It is watching this once barren landscape, burst open with life as a painted statement to the day saying “You do not control us”; with the dark glowing purple of the nightshades, the tangent vibrant yellows of the scurrying geckos, and the mural of light purples, faded greens of jade, and the bright pinks of the heart in the shining night sky as paint.

It is all of this and more.

It simply is.

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