The saddest part....(?)

Note: This post should ideally be read in conjunction with the post previous to this ('Her Majesty').
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I had introduced you to my first love a few hours back, the one who deserves the title of 'Her Majesty'.
What then, one might ask, could be the saddest part that clouds over a post of such high-ness?
Well, the power share mechanism touched upon previously, to me, that is THE saddest part of the entire fairy tale we call life. Of course, perceptions are free to change, as always.

To elaborate:
One has found a certain degree of consummation in one's exquisite relationship with one's royal muse. Good.
One sees every colour under the sun in her clear eyes, as she serenades to one's soul asking nothing in return, but an intent existence. Very Good.
In one's darkest hours, one turns to her, and she lends a succour that is hauntingly unconditional in nature; and she does so without any explicit requests or demands required. The beauty of this automated system is awe-inspiring, to say the least. Brilliant.

BUT,
the stark raving mad dog that hides underneath our couth, refined garbs, incentivizes a continuous hunt for a running mate, EVEN while the muse continues its silent, yet infinitely potent service.
Thus, on one hand, we receive the fruits of a very sumbliminal kind from that all powerful and all understanding spirit, while at that same moment our other hand goes wandering, in search of more personified company.

If a sense of dealt injustice hasn't hit you yet, perhaps (or perhaps not) it shall be so, when one considers the inherent correctness of this infidelity. Procreation and the works are essential to life et al. (The not-straight sections require a separate forum, another page, another day.)
So the situation now is:
The muse knows of our inherent weakness, and the consequent inevitability of our pursuit for the 'other one', and STILL, she loves us, and allows us to love her, in a bond of immaculate perfection.

BUT,
as the old saying goes, foretelling that the darkest hour of the night is that which just precedes the glorious sunrise, one finds a glimmer of overwhelming meaning and purpose (that goes beyond population increase).
And that is, as follows:
We have traversed the paths of untouched high-ness shown by the muse. We have seen, heard, felt beauty and love in so many forms.
If in spite of all this, the essential experience of being human remains INcomplete,
IMAGINE the returns that one is entitled to upon the personified consummation,
IMAGINE the beauty of a system of endless marvel and wonder, which takes one on serial and parallel rides of joy and high-ness, and with infinite feedback loops to go with them!
IMAGINE, the potential power of all that remains to be seen, heard, felt and lived, in the face of all that one has been blessed with already.

If imagination seems to be getting clouded by 'realistic doubt', one may please revert to that which forms the basis of all progress:
"The fact that an experience/fact/truth hasn't been found/perceived yet, does not mean it doesn't exist; rather, it may just be waiting around the corner when one decides to call it quits."

I know this is overflowing with insane idealism.
But to end on a slightly contrarian, sobre note:

1. Yes, one will NEVER find the answers to ALL the questions that haunt our species and beyond.
2. Yes, the chances of such a fairy tale playing out sans detours and blockades are next to none. But Theory Y rules doesn't it? :)
3. Yes, one might be doomed to an existence of eternal melancholia, for it is human nature, to search for the deepest answers whilst in the said state. Thus the quest for joy, and joy itself is seamlessly integrated with the blues that fuel it. More here.

Thus, the saddest part, inspite of its essential sadness, is also the point before one embarks on a voyage of idealistic, untouchable and eternal high-ness and bliss.

Sigh...
Once again,
I want you, she's so heavy!

PS:
"Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst."
-- John 4:13