That fair far spear of light now lays
Its long gold shaft upon the waters.
Ah! might I pass upon its rays
To where it gleams beyond the waters,
Or might my troubled heart be fed
Upon the frail clear light there shed,
Then were my pain at last allay’d.
“A single rose, a gorgeous sunset, the intricate design of what had previously been an “ugly” insect—I cannot guess what she saw, but she saw. And in excitement and rapture, she cried out to her mate (whatever form of “marriage” they had in those days) “Oh, look at this, look!” and he looked and he saw. And beauty was created in a world that had been flat and dead and meaningless until that moment.“
Robert Anton Wilson