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Writer's pictureClaire Nakti

The Unfathomable Depth of Beauty


Gustav Courbet (Purva Ashada Moon), "The Painter's Studio"

Upon hearing of the shallowness of beauty,

I went to Beauty’s seashore.

I dipped my hand into the water along the sandbank to catch Beauty like a guppy shimmering just below the surface.

Instead, in grasping for her, I found my hand empty; I felt nothing but Sun-drenched liquid as pressure between my fingers.

So then I thought, “Beauty must dwell just a bit deeper.”

I inhaled a breath of air and plunged my face in the water, searching for the ocean floor below the surface.

Opening my eyes to the stinging salts, I saw no floor at all, just the gradient of the ink of black depths rising up to mix with the dying thrusts of Sunlight.

Through this sadomasochistic orgy between light & dark, I descended.

I swam so deeply that the Sun had given up following me long ago; deep, wet darkness— now a Widow— had swallowed her consort fully.

Continuing my dive, cold & blinded, terrified and mystified, my lungs filled with water as my body finally forced a deadly breath.

And for just a moment,

I could hear the faintest giggle of Beauty

echoing and bubbling from far below,

as she danced in her unfathomable profundity.


Upon hearing of the shallowness of Beauty,

I drowned trying to reach her depths.


This is something I wrote during the editing work of my last video, while I was in the process of exploring and saturating in the philosophies of Venus♀. To take an experiential dive into Venusian energies, see the video ("Why & How Venusians Dominate the Arts") here.






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