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Ode to Sorrow
I have heard of sorrow described as a pill, a tonic, a cure, a state of ever lasting bliss withheld.
Sorrow, I was told is the grindstone against which our characters are sharpened with.
The measurement which our life is judged against.
Sorrow is the state which we wish we are liberated from, but that which we are never quite ready to part with.
A companion on the road of life, a cruel mistress to be sure, but a mistress nonetheless.
Where would the human animal be, what would it become if not for that noblest of feelings?
Sorrow
