///beauty///conceive me as a dream of stone:
my breast, where mortals come to grief,
is made to prompt all poets' love,
mute and noble as matter itself.
with snow for flesh, with ice for heart,
i sit on high, an unguessed sphinx
begrudging acts that alter forms;
i never laugh, i never weep.
in studious awe the poets brood
before my monumental pose
aped from the proudest pedestal,
and to bind these docile lovers fasti freeze the world in a perfect mirror:
the timeless light of my wide eyes.
~charles baudelaire
this is the exact antithesis to my view of beauty. but i still love the shirt.
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