my heart,

i must address with you something which is of the upmost concern at present.

it is obvious that one does not presume to question the virtue of the sea.

yet, she does not punish the wicked and reward the righteous—

she would fain swallow humble fisherman and deceitful pirates alike.

let us consider her most insidious creatures;

she does not command the Leviathan to obedience.

and at this we rejoice in horror and call it nature!

my heart, this disturbs me greatly.

furthermore, how peculiar is it that one does not presume to question the virtue of great works such as Guernica?

yet, was it not rage that inspired the hand of Picasso?

my heart, should we not be appalled at this malignancy?

rather, we rejoice in horror and call it art!

finally, my heart,

why it is that in regard to the soul,

one retracts in disgust at humanity.

it would seem that we have labored relentlessly to retain our ignorance in order to enjoy an almost inconceivable obedience to virtue;

that we have burdened ourselves unnecessarily through the cheap pretense of being able only to consider our soul a purely virtuous substance.

the embodiment of vanity!–or her nefarious sister?

consider this, my heart,

might not it be reasonable to observe our soul with the same nuanced perspective as with nature and art?

instead of good and evil, to look upon our soul as unbounded potential;

lighter and darker shades of unknown?

why not rejoice in horror at our soul?

[ Photo feature: Guernica by Pablo Picasso, 1937 – photo by Elliott Erwitt ]

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