The Secret

The Mystery that drives all mysteries. You can only observe the splendor of the sun, you cannot experience it in it's fullness without frying your eyes and going mad. You can put it into words, but cannot communicate it other than it being stripped bare of all it's glory, all it's impetus, it's terrible magnificence. It's like being told to write a short story on the feeling happiness, when a novel, an encyclopedia would not do to express the feeling obviously.
And then there are the real secrets. People who have stood out from the crowd and come to whisper in your ear what only you and the deliverer shall know.
It is a sort of enlightenment, where holy writ, except that which is natural, is eschewed for the everyday, and most importantly where experience and empiricism must bear out the facts.
Truly, it is written all around you and in you, and in the earth, the moon, the sun, the ptolemaic system, the fixed and unfixed stars, where Nature is the great guide and is telling truth at every turn.
To be able to grasp the world as it is, where one is rewarded and another punished, where Fortune and Fate are played out in the music of the Muses, and more, still find this world, as it is, to be beautiful (terrible) is a symptom that the Mystery has been grasped though not held.
How can one truly share what one has experienced, felt, seen, heard and held, with the guarantee that the truth has been shared honestly? Truly, one cannot do such a thing.
Irony of ironies, no wonder Socrates spoke in ironies, by opposites, by negation, the statement of what something is not, this is the beginning of being able to accurately describe the experience.
And most, it is an experience.
You experience the worst guilt, the worst suffering, the most quiet and intensest pain, and you look back on it all and say, please, please may I drink more from this bitter cup? for the wisdom and growth you've gained from all of it.
Heresy is your new dogma. You look to those who've cursed you and told you to die and all you can offer them is everything, and a peaceful hug and a holy kiss.
And Mnemosyne is your patroness, your goddess, who thankfully will not allow you to forget any of it, but will continually remind you of it, that the experience, so intense initially, is attenuated then flattened out over days, nights, weeks, months, years so that the suffering may be enjoined and you be united with it, it becoming your best friend.
This is as close to that song, that love song to pain, I can come to sharing my experience.