“Humans are poisoned with a soul”, a friend of mine said recently (Fulco Helmig), referring to the majority of humanity cringing to religion as a way to find peace within themselves.
Our souls fight continuously with our bodies. They should be one, body and soul, but instead, because we lack the ability to keep the balance between them, they are in a constant guerrilla fight.
And so my friend came to a sad but true conclusion: “Everything great is built upon sorrow.”
In the back of my head I know he is right, but still the optimistic little devil inside doesn’t want to let go of the twinkling little star and brings up the notion of “relativity”… What does great mean, and what does sorrow mean? On what scale? Who is there to judge?