The finite is intolerable, the infinite attainable. Wisdom in words loses their meaning in actions conducted with no responsibility of taste or decorum. The lost may never be found but what is gained is priceless, for it is truth that can only be bought by pain. Caught in a maze where affection finds no end. But pain, hate, love and suffering are not everlasting. They are waves crashing within the endless sea of the mind. They ebb and flow like the passing of seasons. The self-important Gods we have created in place of ourselves are idols resting on the cracked pedestals of our ego. We sacrifice sacred relics of trust with the blood of our forefathers to sate the savage beast of desire in a temple full of treason. In seeking out happiness, we unintentionally banish it from our lives with the very actions meant to find peace during our dreamless, haunted nights. I hear a siren song. I feel a fever of the mind.
