Life is beautiful, or at least I thought so. Maybe there is some truth to this overtly optimistic statement. It gives hope to the dying soul, it placates the troubled mind, and it assures light at the end of the tunnel for the lost traveler. These words encourage the crestfallen face of the defeated and build patience in those tired of waiting. But is life really beautiful? What exactly is beauty? Is it the cars, the high-paying jobs, the parties, or the decadence promoted by

Love, what a strange concept! What a feeling! What a drug! Oh, love, how much are you worth? Who guards your gates? How thick are your walls? How high are your walls? What dwells within your court? I have traveled far and wide, my journey long, arduous, and tiring. I have sold all I had for this odyssey, conquered highway robbers, journeyed through the thickest. forests, and swum through the boundless depths of the oceans. Oh, love, I am fatigued. Please open up your gates. M

Rest in peace; the most common phrase on gravestones. Let’s extrapolate that for a moment. The phrase suggests that there is no rest or peace in our current world. What does this world have to offer besides the lack of rest or peace? Are we born into a stage of war and unrest? Is there hope of rest or peace in the most civilized era in human history? One would expect that the advancement of our society and civilization should assure peace and rest but otherwise is the case. F