Dips and swallows
that's what life is to one born of thinking through artistry.
there is no measure of happiness
that
can not reach certain description judged by the metaphors of sadness
there must be one of many to compare
for
every beautifully scripted pain  
there is a joyous rendition able to follow
pleasures must be short lived
and
twisted in to tragic bows
Pain must be the constant
else the fruit of life will go un celebrated
lest
we believe we are all entitled to life.

painfully, beautifully aware
I understand where the jewels in my crown are scattered
that
my words are the flame of my soul
and
descriptions the flicker of wonder in my minds eye
that
I am the incarnate of my logios