She saw the beauty in everything, the drop of light in a heart of blackness, the
silver lining on every cloud. She strived to capture that beauty, to contain it, to hold it
close. She aimed to shackle the ethereal beauty to the chaos of this world. She tried to
own it, make it hers, take credit for it.
She tried to color the wind, restrain the ocean, belittle the mountains. She tried to
dim the stars and reduce the forest. She tried to take the light from his eyes.
Day after day she painted. The beauty she saw at odds with the beauty she
depicted. But did she see the darkness? Strive to capture the shadows and hold the
demons of the world in her delicate hands? She would shackle the beauty but not the
ugliness.
What then is beauty if not a star in the darkness? If everything is beautiful then
beauty no longer exists.
She, who would try to put it in a box where it does not fit. She, who ignored the
scars that mar the beauty. She, who has destroyed beauty. What then is beauty?
The thing you cannot imprison, the bird flying free. But no, the bird has a cage.
The fire then, that devours everything in its path. It will not be restrained. It refuses the
shackles they all try to put on it. It is a raging inferno, destroying everything in its path,
that entrancing, beautiful fire. And when the fire is finally put out, it gives way to more
beauty.
The renewing of a broken land. The first plants grow in, then the trees, followed
by the birds. The beautiful birds that are not beauty itself. The animals follow, each
unique in their own way, and the land again is lush.
This is beauty, but the destroying fire is also beauty. It cannot be restrained. She
cannot restrain it. They cannot restrain it. Beauty refuses to be shackled by The Artists.