Sadness is wasted on the beautiful. Indifferent to its own capacity, beauty absorbs sadness as if a dispensation.
Beauty is an urelement; it seeks companions, but cannot commit to be compromised.
Sadness is a reduction.
Beauty often volunteers, but rarely communicates.
The moment of the beautiful cannot be depleted, and the career of sadness is toward depletion.
Sadness fails to individuate. Its transitive force exhausts itself in beauty's distended hypothesis, which is unanswerable, save for the wasting challenge of time.
Beauty has too few concerns, whereas sadness is always evidential.
The beautiful is wasted on the sad, who seek closure. But beauty, forever eligible, incapable of losing, it has an open face –– occupying space without a wasting rhyme.
Where sadness and beauty intersect, all action stops.