The Temple of Psyche

The yearning passion of joy and beauty is the underlying trait of truth that binds the binding of mankind. It happens to be the mighty abstract of life and its philosophy. The worship of such makes it a religion too. We are the priests, for the deity of psyche. Psyche is a term akin to soul, spirit and energy. The hymns of Keats I recollect now, ‘thy shrine, thy grove, thy oracle, thy heat’ – inspires the religious fervour, instigating the dream of mine - to ‘build a fane’. Where? Somewhere in the untrodden regions of mind, deep inside the territory of the soul. The territory where the ‘branched thoughts are grown with pleasant pain’. A meticulous metaphor – mind as a forest, full of varied beauty and blossom. Some may call it a sanctuary, where the tranquil remains in ecstasy. The ecstasy that explores the statues of love, the deities of intellect, that shines in the front rank of the temple. Flowers that blossoms decorate the trellis of thoughts in the working brain, separating the sanctum from the rest of the temple. The God of love resides in the temple of psyche. Entranced by divinity, loosing the conscious, men contemplate the divine spectacle hidden inside the inner sanctuary that bores an embellished image inside. However beautiful it is, the experience with the unity with that of the divinity is yet more divine extending to the extent of one’s desire and ability. The beauty there is completely beautiful! Ah! Psyche is the personification of beauty rather than the soul!