For what paradox is it to find joy and pain, joy in pain, joy or pain...
We all have found, you see, a difficult friend.
He quickly reigns and enthrones himself as passion destroyer and passion enflamer thrusting hishorns into each fiery pit and bringing forth diamonds, and piles of stone. Yet what of it?
The animal that tears upon the flesh defines such a sub-person in humanity. To be more human, one must possess the unchainable, yet to be whole one must have them chained and free.
So what does that mean, first for the person? How must one control this alien venom that inheres in the human soul?
Pretending, insincerity, is a curse, a mock human being that wanders the earth filled with only shallow pleasures and pains, a fly is the curse of all mankind, and the Resurrection joy pales nigh the Club's dark pulse.
Yet sincerity may lead to Byron's madness, insanity of cursed slavery to chariots of a fiery-maned jack's mare.
Ist th'untempered sincerity that results in lack of sound heart and soul, or is't honest agony itself.
No, tis the untemperedness, the unruled quality, yet what must rule?
The moral guidance of some has created a tempered emotion that bodes unrelatable for those who genuinely feel and yet it holds the safety and lack of madness on might crave.
And further-joy and pain, the cursed quest that one might endeavor upon, neither exist without the possession of deepest emotion, yet both contradict if the heartsoul is had. Yet answer must be found, for one reaches the other in union of eternal bliss.
And so, a complication, yes, is found. An answer? Yes, to be found.
A mission, it is well to be found in oneself and yet without one's own....well without one's one.
Until the day once and for all we see all and one once again.
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