It drips from every letter - the absence of insight. The projections of the demons, unrecognized pain. The alterior motives, the corruption of art, and the weakening of the soul. We see it everywhere. Pretend to be blind, it is easier! The price of sight is pain. The price we'll pay for the present... the future cannot contain it. The price of sight is pain, the price of insight is suffering. Beauty cannot last without strength, and though we have mastered the former, the latter still remains. We'd rather busy ourselves with the mastery of forms, since mastering ourselves is much less appealing - the former brings beauty, the latter brings strength. The opposite of strength is deception. You may lie beautifully, but your lies will never outlive you. If I rarely speak with beauty, but my words remain, which of us speaks well?
Authenticity and pain are inseperable, and neither can be denied. The denial of simplicity is the path to new wisdom; it is a path often walked alone, away from the droves and herds of the human animal. No one will know you when you leave, but everyone will wait for your return. You will want them at the beginning, but not at the end. The path will be suffering, contradiction, and darkness, but no other paths exist. I'd rather walk that painful path than drink the poison of the lilies, and lie among the grazing masses, on the fields of our green-plastic weakness.