“All arrogance behind human nature is where we find ourselves not as imperfect, beautiful creatures, and here willing to forsake what makes us ephemeral, in the vain desire to be more.”– Modern Romanticism
It is in the aspect of knowing oneself, that to comprehend the self is to realize where one is limited, that one might then find out what they’re capable of doing. Whether to be in love, or to be all alone, and we find ourselves within the former to be closest to perfect as possible. Whereas, through the latter, in our imperfections, in our loneliness, we bare the greatest wounds.
A barrier, that to our ability to trust, makes us limited, and yet, still shows us to be beautiful. Beauty is the very understanding of human limitation. Were a woman, perhaps, to know how beautiful she is, she’d then not aspire to become more than just that. Though, beyond the beauty of any human, comes the vanity and arrogance that attempts to supersede a lifetime’s worth of errors. Does a woman realize, in her heart of hearts, what she wants? Has what she truly requires even come to pass? That, she might throw herself upon a place of unkindness and manipulation, only ever to revive herself for a mere moment. It is only afterwards that she falls backwards into another place, called “longing”.
It is seen in many places. Beyond being beautiful, what we do is vain and needless, in essence. Although, ambition is where a person gains power. As it is, power must be limited. Then, if power is to be limited, then ambition, too. Love resides upon the shoulders of a one, in the comprehension that strength lies not in the ability to understand themselves through infinite gain. Love rests upon the shoulder of the individual who carries their weight. Love resides with the one who pleads for the world to see their wounds, and then might unload.
We invite conflict, were we to not grasp this. In the ambitious display of wanting control or power, we find ourselves wanting to be beyond a “mere” human. Though, it is always in the return, to what we feel, to what we have been hiding from, that to be human is where we find the truest consolation. A broken heart allows us to devour love. A divide, within the red, allows us to pour, to overflow.
Beauty is where we find ourselves. A reflection, with a tempest, with a rainfall. Of tears, of shared histories, of absence never met with the place of another’s touch.