Watching Life is Beautiful inspired me to ask myself a few questions which I have chosen to answer in through this blog.
What is innocence?
The beauty of an unaffiliated, uninfluenced, and non-corrupt mind; pureness. An essence not to be misunderstood or associated with being naive and gullible but synonymous to concepts involving beauty and treasure. What is not yet tainted, what is not yet tarnished, what has remained beautiful; young. What evil cannot be inflicted upon, what beauty resides in. An inner beauty that has not been touched; what is clean. What can remain optimistic that which can remain warm and inviting and at the same time inspire hope; a cause worthy to fight and die for. That which is a light in the darkness. It is what is made curious and happy by the vastness and mysteries surrounding it. It is what smiles with its milk-teeth, it is what is naughty, mischievous and full of joy. It is what older souls find running around in fields chasing each other. It is what asks his mother to kiss his boo-boo after he falls down from his bicycle. It is what invites her father to her tea-parties. It is the child. The child is Innocence.
What is evil?
A mind soaked with the colour of blood, that never truly recovers, such as the bloodstains left on white cloth after it has been cleaned. It is what is paranoid and scarred. It is what is fearful and angry. It is what hateful and suffering self-inflicted pain. It is what deprives and kills the natural beauty of the creative and free spirit. It is the predator and the murderer of the child’s spirit; the spirit of innocence. It is sad and deformed. Dark and twisted. Vengeful and unkind. Bloody and unclean. What loves and at the same time hates pain. What destroys itself and everything; a virus. It is dis-balanced and plagued with quarrel. What allows seeds of hate and sorrow to grow and flourish into menacing trees, casting long, cold, lifeless shadows. Engulfing in a shroud of sheer darkness whatever is unfortunate enough to fall within its reach. It is what holds you by the throat with its long icy fingers and watches your spirit die in agony. It is an entity that breaks wills and hearts and souls. It is what leaves a trails of cold blood and destruction in its path. It is what is weak and alone.
What is beauty?
This is a most difficult question I cannot answer. However I can say this: Look up. Look around. Look inside. It is without the shadow of a doubt indescribable. Simply far too abstract for us. Words simply cannot be fit. Beauty is not spoken, nor does it to us, yet it tells us something, it makes us feel something. Many poems and literary works were inspired by beauty. When we look up into the stars or the blue sky we are taken away by this awe-inspiring breath-taking; it is easily found and magnificent, now look up to your dreams. Are they not beautiful? Do they not hold some essence of beauty? Around us beauty is present, present in the novels we read, people we associate with, art we look at, places we go to, and our morals and beliefs; it is everywhere. When we look within ourselves is where individual beauty lies, it is unique, unique as our fingerprints. That is what is beautiful about it, the individuality it holds; its vastness and variety. It is this that manifests itself into our dreams and what gives a person the strength and will to believe. It is uniqueness, endless, and vast.