Sarah, the woman I love. This is her. Or, to speak precisely, a photo of her. One of my favorites, in fact. Taken about three years back, I'm guessing, during a business trip to San Juan by one her staff. I wish I had been the one to snap those flashing blue eyes, that smile. . .
Looking at herself in this shot shortly after I loaded it as wallpaper on our PC, Sarah was struck by the Mona Lisa nature of the smile lighting her face.
Indeed, what is that smile revealing and what is it hiding? How far can those shiny blue eyes see? Her smile seems to say, all the way.
William Blake has something to say on the subject of smiles mysterious and profound:
The Smile
There is a smile of love,
And there is a smile of deceit,
And there is a smile of smiles
In which these two smiles meet.
And there is a frown of hate,
And there is a frown of disdain,
And there is a frown of frowns
Which you strive to forget in vain,
For it sticks in the heart's deep core
And it sticks in the deep backbone--
And no smile that ever was smil'd,
But only one smile alone,
That betwixt the cradle and grave
It only once smil'd can be;
And, when it once is smil'd,
There's an end to all misery.
- William Blake, 1803 -
". . .an end to all misery." Yes. That's what I see in that smile above, a promise of love beyond conception, and the mystery ever unfolding.
I love that smile, that face, the magic behind those eyes. I can do naught else.
Millay has something to say about love and those women possessed of supernatural charm:
Witch Wife
She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
And her mouth on a valentine.
She has more hair than she needs;
In the sun 'tis a woe to me!
And her voice is a string of colored beads,
Or steps leading into the sea.
She loves me all that she can,
And her ways to my ways resign;
But she was not made for any man,
And she never will be all mine.
- Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1917 -
She has given herself to me, though, that one in the photo - in blood and spirit. She has given me these many years her magic chalice from which to sip or drink my fill. I am blessed by Love.
Or am I only dreaming? Certainly when I look into those eyes, I am.
