For millennia
Truth was the supreme task
Beauty was mere consequence
But what if the first is impossible?
Should we, therefore, discard the second?
Beauty is felt not proven
It is a joy to humans given
And although no animal admires a painting
Birds swoon I suppose when listening to their songs
And whales intricately dance to their compositions in the Deep Sea
It seems that all of creation has been made somewhat sensible to Beauty.
What is it then?
A predilection for symmetry?
A signal for mating?
Why, yes and yes
But perhaps it is much more
Perhaps it is the only breadcrumb leading to God
