"A belief is like a guillotine, just as heavy, just as light." Franz Kafka
The mind that reaches further Grasps more than comfort. Each increment of understanding Brings with it the terrible clarity Of what is broken in this world. I have walked through circles of anguish Not only in vision, but in living— The exile's knowledge that to see truly Is to be cast out from the sweet ignorance That lets others sleep peacefully. The deep heart cannot help but love What it knows will perish. Every face becomes precious Precisely because it will fade. Every moment of beauty Carries within it the seed of loss. This is the mathematics of greatness: As intelligence expands, So does the catalog of sorrows. As compassion deepens, So does the inventory of pain The world holds in its keeping. The small mind suffers its own troubles. The great mind suffers for all creation— Feels in its bones the distant wars, The children crying in languages It will never learn to speak. Yet this sadness is not defeat. It is the price of loving truly, Of seeing clearly, Of carrying in your chest A heart wide enough To hold the world's grief Without breaking entirely. The greatest souls I've known Wear sorrow like a crown— Not in self-pity, but in recognition That to feel deeply Is to be fully alive, Fully human, Fully present to the terrible beauty Of being conscious In a world that breaks hearts Simply by existing.
It’s like repeating, over and over, dissolve the ties to beliefs from old xxx