To love Sophia is one thing,
But to be loved back is entirely another.
Many philosophers have wasted away,
In their thoughts of constructing,
A Future of Fantasy with that Divine Being.
Unknowingly in their efforts,
They lose the foundations of their own mind,
In The Description of that Detail.
Many applaud these men,
For willingly journeying into The Void,
Through their love for Chaos,
Creating new paradigms within which
The Paradox may now unfold.
But,
Those who differentiate without classification,
Suffer within the bounds of Philosophy,
Within the illusion of fear and clarity.
Those who classify without differentiation,
Suffer without any limit in their own confidence,
Within the reality of fear and confusion.
To love Sophia is one thing,
And to be loved back is entirely another.
Rarely does She look back at Her admirers,
Leaving them without a means to extend
Their Line.
And here comes the Truth about Philosophy.
It is a curse and not a blessing.
Men who pride themselves in loving women,
May understand their Purpose,
But not their own Power.
Leaving Sophia’s gaze only upon The Father,
Whose Will and Witness
Is perfectly balanced upon,
The Edge of Philosophy:
Between Wisdom and War.