I have heard it in a million times,
That beauty is in the hand of its beholder.
Some beauties cease the heart,
And some blind the eyes and seal up senses
While few others make the whole world shiver.
Has God not created all these beauties with ordinary clay,
And some mixed with loamy?
Has he not created woman’s bone from the ribs of Adam?
And shave their beautiful hairs out of Adam’s armpit
And finally gave them his blessings for them to be fruitful and multiply?
But right before me stands the mystery of God’s creation-
A creature neither made of clay nor loamy;
Her heart was made of mystery,
Her teeth were made of mystery,
Her nails were made of mystery,
And her beautiful hairs were mystery beyond my mortal imagination.
Ask me of her skin;
She is never a German doll made of rubber and silicones
Neither is she African goddess that are made of earthly clay, woods and limes
She is not an earthly sea, air or land goddess of worship,
But her beautiful existence remains to the lowly heart of mine – a mystery.
But mysteries are meant to be unfold,
For truth to be told.
For it, my heart hunger and thirst
And words came out of the shining cloud,
Sounding like a great thunder and said;
If you truly know, then tell me;
Are heavenly angels made of clay or loam?
Of whom are they begat
Are they of Adam’s birth or Eve’s breath?
Tell me if you truly know;
Adam walks but Angels flies –
Who took off their royal head the crown of gravity and placed it on their hands.
Or tell me if you truly know;
Are Angels undiminished sandals of earthly made
Or are their glorious trumpet on earth manufactured?
Tell me of their white unblemished garments
Are their wools gathered from all earthly gardens?
Take a deep breath;
If you don’t know all these, then tell me,
How will you understand the true definition of beauty.
Beauty is not in the hand of its beholder,
Rather in the hand of its creator.
Written by Agele Ayo