Because the eyes of my heart have been opened and I can see the sorrow that lies behind all the laughter and amusement, a sorrow of lost souls undone, finding nothing to do that is sincere, their life a deep sorrow of want for meaning. For there went I so many years ago. I was racing down the highway to hell, in pursuit of mirth, but determined to live meaninglessly. I lived with that, me so vital and living, so young and filled with vigor but with no reason for any of it but the ongoing stupor of self-medicated and indulgent meaningless. And then, despite myself, I was found. When one finds meaning one finds life and in that is the great pearl, the great treasure who, me a man, sells all I have to obtain.
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