On Why I Call You Beautiful

I never call you handsome. I call you beautiful.

Fortunately, such distinction exists in the English language.

What’s handsome? Pleasant to the eye, a very particular and restricted way to express physical attractiveness. I couldn’t describe you this way.

What’s beautiful? There’s so much to this word, there’s nearly everything to it.

Beautiful is something hard to describe. It’s unfathomable, unbound to definitions.

Beautiful is not just something you can delight your eye in. It’s something you can experience in many ways. It’s something you can even sense in ways unknown to mankind, or at least undefined by them. That’s the way I sense you.

What’s beautiful?

A sunny day in the middle of spring, flowers of all colours: red, yellow, violet, spread on a carpet of green grass,

A swan gliding gracefully on the surface of a lake,

A poem written from the bottom of the heart,

A sculpture made by skilful hands,

A music piece composed by a genius, performed by a talented musician,

A child smiling to another child, sharing a piece of bread,

A man feeding a hungry bird out of his hand,

All these things, and so many others, are beautiful it their own way. They all touch the soul.

The way the heart feels when first falling in love – it’s beautiful,

It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

And so are you.

Handsome is for the eyes alone.

Beautiful is for the soul.

You are beautiful.