Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
(Robert Frost, 1923, New Hampshire)
I was just reading this, this morning, tasting words along with my cappucino, as I get to the last pages of Stephen Cope's "The Wisdom of Yoga", and I felt myself floating all day in it.
Perception of beauty, I know, is something so simple as this deep resonance with the most intimate truth our heart holds.
True beauty hurts. Pleasure and pain become one and the same. Sadness and joy, as well.
All emotions in one, slowly become no emotion at all, as they are cooked in the fire of consciousness...
Awareness rises above, contemplating, this deep, intense, sense of beauty and a strange kind of peace.
This fire is where broken hearts burn and melt, and expand... and go on pulsing love and blood... forever broken, forever open.
This fire... this love... is all there is. All the invisible gold has always been here, behind my eyes.