Divine beauty–that of a rolling mountainscape, of a dancer’s gait, of a kind, matronly face–is the truth of the divine light shining forth in form.

The beautiful form, intimating the fullness of splendor, whispering its essence, entreats the tarrier.

But allow the eye of the heart to gaze through the form. Then the gaze and the gazer both are lost in the heart of the source. Lost forever, never to return.