I cannot help but see shadows where the light falls. Within the illusion of duality, I find that beauty is incomplete without a flaw to complete its perfection. Would the same be said of our lives; that each tear is a diamond placed upon the crown; that all things that bring grief, pain and sorrow are merely etchings upon the soul on an eternal journey home.
On an endless quest to seek answers that remain forever elusive, would a fool open pandora’s box if she thought it held all the answers neatly packaged in a capsule? And if they were kept locked deep in some chamber within her soul waiting to be retrieved; would the key to the soul unleash insanity that is bound by conformity?
The fool is not insane, but a genius interrupted by a tune playing in discordance with the song of the universe.
“Come, let me help you look beyond reality so that you may see all that is dead and dying around you,” said the Prophet of Fools, “for though you have sight you are blinded by illusions of what your hands and mine have wrought.
The beast was here all along…