The business of pleasure can confound as well as illuminate. What joyous rapture beckons against this facade of endless suffering? Like some mysterious elixer of yore, the tides of desire whet the shores of our fondest dreams. Longing becomes our kind, for in striving we find a value relatively non existant in perfect acceptance. Mindless blathering aside, I'd say yearning may not be necessary for the structural integrity of the universe, but even the most jaded advanced being can discern a basic value to our insignificant struggle to increase pleasure and minimize pain regardless of despoiling the source of our sustainance. As I previously stated so succinctly...whatEVER!
Form allows and limits
Our movement
In a room with a view
A function of imagination
That produces
What is past and new
Truly
We seek our own shadow
In the light of every new day
Surely
We learn and we grow
For such is the stuff of our way
"Show me the pinnacle of heavenly bliss,
Then, in a moment, hurl me to despair!"
- Friedrich von Schiller (1759–1805). Wilhelm Tell
