un-finality

Life is rich both in sorrow and joy, At one moment it rips the heart in two And jerks tear after tear dowm the cheekbone; At the next it fills the heart with pulsing beats And makes the blood course lustily in the veins. Is one better than the other in this place where to suffer Is counted blessed and yet to rejoice is the goal of all? Is it wiser to seek joy and not sorrow, for in sorrow All the awful reality of the world is caought? Or is it more... Is the truth that to suffer is joy, to suffer is beauty, That to conquer this world one must suffer and die? How can it be that achingly beautiful is the one with Tears pouring down and the sob wracking her shoulders? Or is there wrong... Wrong in seeing beauty in that. Wrong in blessing the mourner. What induced the world to reproduce such pain and glorify in the Mysterious un-finality of it all?