The Mirror of Magnificence


The holy words and phrases of human history will peep out from the gale of real truth and will strongly proclaim that Juliet was a goddess for a Romeo a god for her and relaxation, the particles of dust. Heer for ranjha was enough, and he for her, to lead entire their daily life alongside one another with few straws of love. But keep in mind, if all the fans of the entire world of the world are invited to a celebration to check with who among all is the most stunning, they undoubtedly shall stamp the claim of natural beauty on the hearts and souls of their individual beloved which in fact is not their slender-mindedness but a purely natural simple fact that 'beauty lies in the eyes of beholder'.

Just one working day a great historian whispered in my ears a tale...
'once on a time there was king so fond of natural beauty that he identified as his most faithful and devoted negro slave and ordered him to go from east to west and from north to south and fetch him these a paragon of elegance that neither moon would have risen with this kind of splendors nor the oysters of ocean would have specified start to such outstanding pearls neither girls of paradise would have appeared so charming not the preachers of elegance would have been equipped to give these types of bewitching illustration, neither any artist would have designed such thoughts blowing portrait nor a poet from the depth of his creativeness would have been able to compose this sort of riveting verse neither any dove would have its pinion soar such marvelously not the Aphrodite would have marked these kinds of excellence. And if I say for her that she is the most wonderful spirit God ever established, then the claimants of magnificence really should have said:' we are like lumps of coal in a mine and she a diamond among the us.' So, go my gentleman whose head crown of my faith rests, on whose shoulders stars of company belief shine and on whose upper body medals of guaranteed obedience are stamped. Go and existing me the attractiveness that must be praised and witnessed by the twinkling stars.'

The negro servant bowed down and went absent calmly to the peaks from where by the sunshine pierced its shining fingers into the dark curtains of evening, from where Shakespeare and Shelley loved beverages of inspiration, from wherever the portrait of Mona Liza was located and from exactly where moon extracts its gleaming light and thus he went through plains to mountains, through valleys to deserts, as a result of unfathomable cares to celestial towns and as a result of each and every and each individual inch of this earth where life seemed respiratory.

Right after indefatigable efforts, he went to the king, offered him what seemed the goddess of elegance to him, his Negro daughter. At this, the king questioned,
'did you not locate any soul much more beautiful than this?'

He stored silent for a although, then raised his head and said:
'Your Excellency, my blood shall be showered in your toes if I converse but the truth. You requested me to convey Aphrodite but I brought my Negro daughter the motive was my loyalty.