I can’t help but notice beauty. Expecially the kind of beauty that is so reaching and rarefied that mere words can do nothing but form an unabridged injustice. Sometimes, an item or moment of beauty is so singular that an attempt to encapsulate it in just one wordy definition is a veritable crime.

I believe that you cannot capture true beauty with words. For if you did, the encased would hardly fit the encasement. Moreover, silence would most assuredly serve more soundly.

The kind of beauty I’m referencing isn’t the kind you’ll see in a pageant, on MTV or E! or Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous or Pimp My Ride. The kind of beauty I’m talking about flies past reason and rhyme and riches and builds it’s own beauty-filled bridge across bottomless fissures or chasms of what we can call the mundane–landing itself on the far side while leaving eyewitnesses with just a feeling of jaw-dropping and bone-chilling awe.

This is the beauty that surpasses all understanding. Such beauty can therefore only give birth to feelings, not words at all. This beauty is described by loud silence or by residue feelings of wonderment.

I saw just this kind of beauty two nights ago.