We are sojourners on a path:
We are taken here and there
Across mountain peaks
We tread the rock
And it is to that reality that our flesh bears witness:
it gets old,
Beautiful yet fragile.
It reflects there is something more,
Something beyond the fragility that limits us so.
It whispers potential
beyond death and finitude
For the incomplete to someday become complete.
The tarnished become clean.
And The depraved become glorified.
The "Very good" that was originally intended.
Our bodies ache for it.
They know better perhaps than we do.
The scars yell it.
It is because beauty exists, we can hope in the future reality that beauty will become Beauty.
We taste it because we know–Beauty.
We know it.
It will come.
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