They say the ends justify the means;
but the ends are rarely the end,
and mean means
mean mean ends.

Some crumple beneath a bundle of feathers, blind to anything but the load.

Others strap the mountain effortlessly upon their shoulders and march, strengthened by the view of the palace they build on the plains below.

And a small few carry the others, ignoring all strain, for in their minds the palace is already built. They must merely dance their steps to make the towers shine in an eternity of future sunrises.

Tom was respected because he cared for people, and he was loved because he cared for people.

Dick was respected because he told people the truth, and he was hated because he told people the truth.

Harry was respected because, while he was no Tom, he wasn’t a Dick.

Work, but not too much.
Rest, but not too much.
Dance, laugh, revel and party,
Cry, howl, grieve and be somber,
But not too much.

Dote on your child, boast and be proud.
Admonish and discipline to teach.
Show them the beauty and joy in the world.
Point out the horrors, the evils, the dark.
But not too much.

And love.
Love until your heart explodes,
Until your body collapses,
Until the earth claws you back into her body.
Love until every part of you forgets what is to not love.
Love until exhaustion.
Love past exhaustion.
Love until the limit,
And you will find no limit.