Is it not beautiful? The tenderness of the soul, the softness of emotions and the sensitivity of one's being. Fragile as glass, Yet Strong as echo, frustrating enough to break through glass, moldivite even quartz. Blinding as expensive diamonds when pure, as in their own raw form. Dark as in pits of hell Bright as the sun, heavens brushing onto skin. So uniquely and vaguely made, all in excellent precision. Two in both, in each. A pair of everything, that make a half-whole. And in divination comes, Eros, Love, passionately burning floods and rationality. Leaves behind laws of physics and reason. Whether black, white, beautiful shades of an imbalanced mix, Although uncertainties are solid. Fluent in a waltz of change and extremity. Remains intact, When smooth bursts of Grief Entwines the whole existence. And travels through passion and inaction Knowing nothing is permanent, intact, immovable, So is our self unnatural, Defiantly breaking logic and order, When Is most considered precious and immortaly, dazzles in-between time and space. Elegantly seizing but still existing.