the prologue

What can i say, if i may in the first place? Time is a most precious Gift that slips by so lucidly. More often than not, i’ll let it pass by without looking back. And why would i not? Life is beautiful . . .

Yes, indeed, beauty is subjective. It is seen, or rather, recognized solely by the beholder. Whatever the sight that sets upon the eyes of the beholder is analyzed and defined within the parameters that the beholder has already outlined in prior, and not without circumstantial variance. The human soul carelessly defines everything through the knowledge that resides within. Plus, that knowledge is limited to the experiences of the soul.

Experiences of the soul. That is just what this coffer of belles-lettres is going to be about. A compilation of the incoherent expressions that serves way beyond simple narration, this magnum opus nonetheless is not intended to be an oracle, though time may have proven that the wealth of experience amassed has significantly been enriching my soul and enhancing my life salubriously . . .

This life, as of everything else, undoubtedly originates from The Infinite cos nothing can ultimately begin with the finite. The human soul is actually aware of the Existence of The Infinite, The One Whom no amount of human logic nor experience can truly grasp. Now. If The Infinite is truly so, then the Gift of life is beyond comprehensible beauty. The very thought of it all stimulates the conscience like no other and is more than sufficient to jolt the minds of drifting souls immersed in the hum-drum of life . . .

Hasten, hasten now.

And so . . . the prologue . . . concluded with a silent dawn indiscernible to the hardened soul . . .