Any wise man can tell you that life will often seem futilely filled. The breaths we take each day allow us to reach the next day--each one filled with its share of pain. While we clutch the rare joys we find in order to atone for the numerous pains we experience, we can not help but feel that the end result of this canvas we call life will end in a disparaging manner, filled with a soulful loss. A loss that one can not translate from soul to language.
Occasionally this conviction of a preordained failure may stagger. When we experience that moment of pure silver, when two combining hearts create a luster to cause God envy, our collections of spiritual suffering and physical malaise seem to dwindle. Curiously enough, one such present joy can overcome the multitudes of past pains.
More curious still, very few give credit of this feat of the human spirit to the possesor of this spirit. Rather, many prefer to attribute these occasions to an invisible outside source, as opposed to an invisible inside source. For the reason of giving the canvas a "meaning" we waste precious space in service and worship to an invisible and questionable force we believe exists above ourselves. We've forgotten how to worship ourselves and those we love, and we've allowed an omni-force to beguile us with a closed lie.
The person who worships themself takes responsibility for their lives, both for the pain and the joy. The wise man holds himself accountable for his history and tosses aside all warnings but his own. Knowing the silver moment will appear in due time, the wise man lives.