Will

Silver moonlight baths the spirit. Enriched is the soul in the waters of the world. Perception reacts to the fluctuation of the tides, but the oceans are boundless. The will is like a line in infinite expansion, it doesn’t matter where you cut it or severe it, will always remain whole, its essence unchanged. Rain drops falling over a stone will create reflections and change its colors, but those are illusions, the hardness is the will of the stone. Achieving a will which cannot be damaged and only grow, that’s the search in the path. As a circle can’t be deprived of his roundness without being nullified, man oughts to find his roundness; a roundness that is always expanding, with its center everywhere and its circumference nowhere –recalling the voice of Pascal. Will is the warmth of fire, humidity of water. Can’t be detached to its source without becoming nothing. A poor will is weak and subtle to change. If the will of man can be measured and has limits, it can be divided, and its parts will no longer keep the same essence. Is not a goal, for if reached, shall be done. Is not utopian, not out-of-place, but rather an all-encompassing will, always moving and yet always keeping the same nature. The will, that is, the humble search of the spirit. Morality and ethics pend from it as leaves do from a tree. That, and no more, and yet…