Seemingly unreal, and yet it seems nearly tangible. It's manifestation is so great, it often has physical attributes. It is fleeting, like that of the Peregrin, it is gone before given the chance to grasp it. Becoming nothing more than a blur to the wishful eyes. So much pain and torture comes from this demon of delight, and yet it is something many seek throughout life. Deaths of one's own hands have been wrought because of this. It is a maze of blinded misery. Hate spawning from it, a most unusual birth. Lost most are, in this maze of hellish bliss. Traps and shadows lay about, one must be wary not to become tangled in the hanging ropes. Of what, a man will ask, do I speak? The richest source of pain we all yearn for; Love.