The eternal love for beauty.

A thought while looking at steadlers.
Have we ever imagined the life without colors?
Have we ever noticed what is the scientific, economic and social need of colors?
So, we all agree that colors do not play any essential role on the planet without which any task would be impossible to imagine.
Then why different fruits, flowers, birds, animals are full of various shades!?!
Why does 🌈 rainbow posses VIBGYOR colors?
I know the science behind rainbow is the dispersion of light through a water droplet which results in scattering of light into various shades, but which need this theory fulfills?
White and Black life could be easily possible..
I am asking all this to knock your thoughts for a minute towards the beauty of colors.
Scientific, economic and social needs are secondary needs and we spend our whole life running behind them.
Prime need is happiness, beauty, good vibes and all those emotions which makes us feel positive and nowadays we have no time left for them. "....It's loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness....
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall...."
-A thing of beauty - John Keats
Let's take out some time to grace the beauty.

My photography-

i really want to share this poem again & again!
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

   Nor do we merely feel these essences 

For one short hour; no, even as the trees
That whisper round a temple become soon
Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon,
The passion poesy, glories infinite,
Haunt us till they become a cheering light
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast,
That, whether there be shine, or gloom o'ercast;
They always must be with us, or we die.

   Therefore, 'tis with full happiness that I 

Will trace the story of Endymion.
The very music of the name has gone
Into my being, and each pleasant scene
Is growing fresh before me as the green
Of our own valleys: so I will begin
Now while I cannot hear the city's din;
Now while the early budders are just new,
And run in mazes of the youngest hue
About old forests; while the willow trails
Its delicate amber; and the dairy pails
Bring home increase of milk. And, as the year
Grows lush in juicy stalks, I'll smoothly steer
My little boat, for many quiet hours,
With streams that deepen freshly into bowers.
Many and many a verse I hope to write,
Before the daisies, vermeil rimm'd and white,
Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees
Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas,
I must be near the middle of my story.
O may no wintry season, bare and hoary,
See it half finish'd: but let Autumn bold,
With universal tinge of sober gold,
Be all about me when I make an end.
And now, at once adventuresome, I send
My herald thought into a wilderness:
There let its trumpet blow, and quickly dress
My uncertain path with green, that I may speed
Easily onward, thorough flowers and weed.
My art piece-