How do you describe something that is beyond description?
How do you put a limit on that which is limitless?
You cannot; nor should you want to.
After all, isn’t that the beauty of a well-composed mystery?
We love the impossible because it is, in fact, impossible,
And with each attempt at impossibility, we find
That what was impossible is still impossible,
But we have, somehow, reached impossibility.
Possibility is a matter of growth, as is with all paradoxes:
The more that we grow, the more that we understand
paradoxes,
The more we realize that they are far from understandable
And, thus, our understanding of them is based purely upon
not
Being able to understand them. And, that is the beauty of
it.
For to die is to live, to be empty is to be full,
To become worthless is to find meaning.
We do not comprehend these things,
But we comprehend that they are incomprehensible,
And, that’s what makes them beautiful.
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