Why did the hour of my birth unfold, and why do I exist here in my suffering upon the earthly hill? Why do I shed the tears that I cry and why do the hours flutter by like the birds do across the world? Why do I not find the joy that I seek? For my life is the limp horse which is dripping with blood, yet my life is also like the joy of the earthy light before me. The universe is stupendous, its clock work is heavy, and its complexity is immense. Its purpose is cunning and timely as it unfolds with the propensity to do harm while yet having the insensible brilliance of a kind handed grace. To live within it is to be a duplication of love from agony, and grace from horror. For there is peace close by to the insurmountable pain of a volition so great, and a diligence so swift in its pace that it strikes even the mighty Hector with the cold hand of death. Yet in my pain I learn discipline. In my frustrations I learn the focus of my heart. And in the silent agony of life’s oblivion I learn to rejoice in the things of the spirit. For nature shall find peace with abstraction, the women and the men will have peace with one another, and the children shall be of one heart with the elderly. The light will befriend the darkness as the moon shakes hands with the sun. For each of these polarities was designed for kindness, yet our sins have brought them to disunion, and our wickedness has led them to mutual distrust. But as the moral order of my heart becomes clear by the vine of my discipline, and by the fruit of my joyful virtue; once again the valley of the grassy field is holding hands with the cosmos by the ocean’s measure of that which is love.