On Philosophy

There is a certain joy in reading philosophy. I generally do not get visual art. But I love reading good prose. It is heartwarming. It is comforting. It is soothing. The melancholy strikes a chord with troubled souls.

It talks to you without judging you. It is a reflection of every unexplored abscess of your heart. It unshackles you, unburdens you. It makes you light. It is the best friend for a troubled soul.

It makes you think. It makes you wonder. It so ruthlessly yet so elegantly details the struggles of human existence. Oh!The joy I feel when the perfect words combine to create a symphony and capture something in my heart.

But perhaps it is only for the troubled soul, the meek souls, souls in need of comfort. The strong ones perhaps dont need it. But can everyone be strong?