I did not believe, standing on the bank of a river which was wide and swift, that I would cross that bridge plaited from thin, fragile reeds fastened with bast. I walked delicately, as a butterfly and heavily as an elephant, I walked surely as a dancer and wavered like a blind man. I did not believe that I would cross that bridge, and now that I am standing on the other side, I do not believe I crossed it.
The scripture recited harmoniously was once a collection of disunity seeking clarity, the hymn illuminating worship was but a misguided prayer given direction, for the devotee of truth was merely a traveler led by lies.
Evil is good deprived as sin is a deed misguided, wrongdoings are not but acts of oblivion as harm is to an interpreter's call, light only cascades when darkness prevails, and lessons can only be taught when mistakes derail, oppositions engulf our beings as we factor their cause, a melody is but a discord discovered - realized in flaw.