feelings were running high

beauty of the colors is in their power to talk.

beauty of the colors is in their power to talk.

While listening to the flame of my candle, I saw the birth of a fairy-tale and grasped the great secret.  Beauty of the fine arts hides in the power of the colors that talk and show the inner light of the beholder.  Thus the pictures depict not the nature, but our standpoint to life.  While the beauties of nature attract always, our mind just cries for the healing touch of love in the world that hides the warmth of smile in dry tutorials on all just imaginable occasions.

fine art in reality

As I awoke, I opened my eyes and … Wow! I didn’t recognize my yard in the window … it was snowing as I awoke, and the snow was dropping the new color upon so familiar picture. The novelty gave me a real shower. Everything looked so fine now, yet the whiteness of the new mask didn’t mislead me.
A snowflake warms the heart just in the fine arts expositions where the chatter of the paper trimmings reign. The flakes of snow on my bald forehead awake the opposite emotions.

In the light of the blogging, not the novelty of my pictures, but the reciprocal links (the comments on each other posts) set light to my fireplace and show the mystery of the healing by beauty.

gratitude

As a tiny seed grows the highest tree, so your comments write the most wonderful poem of gratitude in my heart.

faerie

faerie-to-modus-vivendi.jpg

anatomy of the love

Love reminds of a flower. This word directs us at the eternal beauty. The sound and vision cast glamour over us, and all people rejoice at their beloved – anybody worry over the details. That looks so natural, that ir becomes hard to perceive the existence of the cruelest wars because of the love. It’s hardly surprising that we question ourselves ” why does the sun leave a stage to the Moon?”

Love is like a flower. The intoxicating smell cast glamour over us and makes the question “how does the flower looki like in the concrete?” the seconddary matter. Therefore the roses look at marguerites and they both are withering up. The Forget-me-not ceases smiling too. The beauty of the wild flowers becomes the agricultural product – the history declares the hay time. Thus all people around eagerly look to the love today – passionately search the remnants of the humaneness. Wow, what’s that?

While reading the Bible, I have learned that the love may be
1) the love of self (the passion)
2) the brotherly love (the national feelings)
3) the agape (the divine love)

The love bears all the above mentioned and it enables everything to exist. As you see for yourself, we stand face to face with three quite different pictures of the love. It’s the obvious that the formless visions (the general words) depict nothing at all except for the mess. We take a try at hiding in the flowers, but are forced to admit that just the love is just nice word and therefore the beauty of our language is impotent to make any shield to us.
The love exists indeed, but she is the spirit and we must to confess our faith aloud. The love is what we accept or not. Thus our choice reveals either we enjoy the flowers of our own yard (bother about the security of our flesh ), or rest in the eternal peace of divine love that embrace us all likewise all over the world.