Bitter in the cup of Joy: Time flies!

Once more I had sunshine. The clouds seemed to depart as suddenly as they had risen, and that same rejoicing and rosy light which had encircled the brow of manhood at its dawn long shrouded, seemingly lost for ever, and swallowed up in darkness--came out as softly
and quietly in the maturer day, as if its sweet serene had never known even momentary obscuration.

Love, verily, is the purple light of youth. If it abides, blessing and blessed, with the unsophisticated heart, youth never leaves us. Gray brows make not age--the feeble step, the wrinkled visage, these indicate the progress of time, but not the passage of youth.
Happy hearts keep us in perpetual spring, and the glow of childhood without its weaknesses is ours to the final limit of seventy. The sense of desolation, the pang of denial, the baffled hope, and the defrauded love, these constitute the only age that should ever give the heart a pang. I can fancy a good myself as a man advancing through all the mortal stages from seventeen to seventy-five, and crowned by the sympathies of corresponsive affections, simply going on from youth to youth, ending at last in youth's perfect immortality!

The hope of this--not so much a hope as an instinct--is the faith of our boyhood. The boy, as the father of the man, transmits this hope to riper years; but if the experience of the day correspond not with the promise of the dawn, how rapidly old age comes upon us! White hairs, lean cheeks, withered muscles, feeble steps, and that dull, dead feeling about the heart--that utter abandonment of cheer--which would be despair were it not for a certain blunted sensibility--a sort of drowsy indifference to all things that the day brings forth, which, as it takes from life the excitement of every passion, leaves it free from the sting of any. Yet, were not the tempest better than the calm? Who would not prefer to be driven before the treacherous hurricane of the blue gulf, than to linger midway on its shoreless waters, and behold their growing stagnation from day to day? The apathy of the passions is the most terrible form in which age makes its approaches.

With an earnest, sanguine temperament, such as mine, there is little danger of such apathy, The danger is not from lethargy but madness. I had escaped this danger. It was surprising, even to myself, how suddenly my spirits had arisen from the pressure that had kept them down. In a moment, as it were, that mocking troop
of fears and sorrows which environed me, took their departure. We have our gods and devils in our own hearts. The nature of the deities we worship depends upon our own. In a savage state, the Deity is savage, and expects bloody sacrifices; with the progress
of civilization his attributes incline to mercy. The advent of Jesus Christ indicated the advance of the Hebrews to a higher sense of the human nature. It was the advent of the popular principle, which has been advancing steadily ever since and keeping due pace with the progress of Christian education. The people were rising at the expense of the despotism which had kept them down.

I said to myself the kind of my heart is aging, the whistles and the balloons of another heartily wishes weakens my heart. I wonder what why I jubilate and people celebrate me as I journey closer to my grave. My youth is going, my boyhood is fading and rush of overflowing testosterone spines over my body is reducing(as I age I won't have the full strength to please my lady). Yet, people democracy(choose or vote) to be happy as this bitter of moving closer to time ender angel drops in my cup of joy.

I picked a head from ajala, I was favored a destiny, which was unrevealed to me but as I grow the mysterious revelations of what I had chosen unravel. Some I cried, some I laughed and some my being will still donate more tears to the earth and some my existence will spread a sweet sensation of smiles and happiness all over me. But in all there'll always be bitter in a cup of joy, just never let it turn all joy to bitter. Realize that the bitter in your cup of joy is to tell you that life is not worthwhile without the harmony of opposites. As time flies, so do we go up and down, the moral is never let a little moment of sadness overrule a large sum of joy. As we move closer to our graves each day, let us appreciate the essence of our lives.


Happy new month.