If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, shouldn’t the beholder possess an eye magnificent enough to determine beauty’s worth?
Can you degrade or upgrade a person by your perspective of what beauty entails. Do fat legs have lesser charm, do thin waists speak of lesser lust. Does a belly determine love’s scale? Does white skin deserve more attention than brown, does black skin only deserve to shine?
What then my brother defines beauty for you? Beauty, is it the dimple on her cheeks, is it the crease in her forehead or is it the lines on her chin? Would a shade on the skin that covers her fragile insides be a criteria that measures your care. Would the weighing machine’s report stop you from straddling those wisps of hair that fall across her cheeks when she’s lost in wonder? Would the mark of life’s toils as scars and dents studded on her soft tissues keep your eyes from searching for her soul.
What then my sister defines beauty for you? Does the scale of his height speak louder than the scale of his love? Do muscles separated into six sections seem to point to more happiness than that centered in one? Does the same act appear in contrast from that of one whose features are akin to Brad Pitt to one whose features reflect Bill Murray?
How great are thine eyes and how brilliant thine mind to judge the worth of a fellow mortal crafted with care of the same loving hands.
What is beauty if not of that which shines forth from the heart
– that can only be sighted by a soul as beautiful.
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