A perpetual grip of the mind by an unabating yearning coupled with obstinate exertion is the remedy for monumental autarky, liberty and odyssey.
And bearing witness to a life void of these blessings is an unmitigated shame.
Mother Nature is littered with the ashes of civilizations who once thought they were eternal. Now, their stories? Murmured throughout the corners of the world. Their dust? Displayed in history books, and their ruins? Tourist attractions.
Ego is a fragile and temporary façade.
Killing is easy, destruction is easy.
Healing is difficult, putting things back into place.
Breaking a glass requires so little effort, yet constructing it into it‘s prior form is pretty much impossible.
The sanctum of our consciousness is inconceivably profound and infinitely deep. Predominantly, the veiled sage that is our subconscious.
Absorbing a fleeting glimpse of this intrinsic nexus of vast insight, albeit in rare occurrence, is transcendent and enlightening.