Young Writers Society

In the black desert of my dreams, I saw you, a creature naked and bestial. You walked in beauty, like the night off cloudless and starry skies above us; and all that was best of dark and bright in your eyes. To me you seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people. My heart went wild with the breeze which stirred your hair; I almost went mad when it took flight behind you as you rain towards me, and I heard the gold of your laughter as you drew near... Beauty, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears, and I woke crying, struck by the power of beauty.

To clear my head, I went out walking by myself, and it seemed to me that the rain was falling through my heart and causing it to crumble into ruins, until I found myself wandering through Nutana Park, gazing at a solitary tree that reminds me of Her ?. For me, trees have always been the most penetrating of preaches for the soul, and I so revere this one, standing like a lonely person, I call it "D__." I often make detours just to greet it, so I can whisper your name and smile, and touch its bark, imagining my hands on your skin.

The world rustles in this tree, but it does not loose itself there; it struggles with all the force of its life for one thing only: to fulfill itself according to its own laws, to build up its own form, to represent itself. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree.

It reminds me of a beautiful, strong farm girl. A girl who has the tendency to stay up at night listening to music or watching movies that distract her from her current situation. Who bravely hides her fears, hurt, pain and tears on a daily basis. The girl who wears her heart on her sleeve. The girl who prays that things will work out just once and she'll be satisfied. The girl who take life as it comes, to the girl who is hoping that it'll get better somewhere down the road. It reminds me of the girl who loves with all her heart although it sometimes gets hurt. It reminds me of the realest  truest girl I know, so beautiful the thought of her moves my soul to happy tears.

Imagine if D__ the tree were cut down. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all of that stand truly written, all the attacks withstood, the storms endured. But every young farmgirl knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.

You are beautiful. Day after day, countless people across the globe get on a scale in search of validation of beauty and social acceptance. I have yet to see a scale that can tell you how enchanting your eyes are. I have yet to see a scale that can show you how wonderful your hair looks, like the sun when when it shines its glorious rays on earth. I have yet to see a scale that can thank you for your compassion, sense of humor, and contagious smile. I have yet to see one that can admire you for your perseverance when challenged in life. Like D_ the tree, you struggle to fulfill yourself according to your own laws, to build up your own form. You are strong, you are noble, and you are is nothing more rare, nor more beautiful, than something, be it a woman or a tree being unapologetic herself.

Nature doesn't need to change to be beautiful, and neither do you you. You defiantly are. This is the essence of true beauty. I touched the bark of D__ the tree and felt your soft skin. My heart danced upon your movements like a cork upon a tide. I heard what your voice said to me ("I love you") and I knew that in some reverie, I had heard this tale before:

For me, there was emotion in that touch, and respect, and love. Emotion that comes from honesty, respect that comes from challenge, and the form of love that exists between people whose minds have touched, whose hearts have touched, whose souls have touched. I stopped touching the tree, but we did not separate.

Your Cloud of love came floating into my life, to add color to the sunset sky of my heart, and the gold of your voice saying "I love you," a little poetry, implanted beauty into my soul. How I love your accent, and your special intonation! For the rest of the day, I walked around having a conversation with my soul, which spoke in your accent. Several people looked at me like I was a complete fruit loop.