Prose 42: The End Justifies The Means

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If mathematics could be measured through the compass of visual units, four out of five people would most likely agree that love is beyond immeasurable.

Benchmarked over definite congruent angles, curve lengths and marginal intersections, no large pictograph suffices the need of love to be valuated with calculated shape and eye-catching pattern adorned by accurate matches of circumference as the tilted white background fades into greener graph.

A frequency of parallels, linear streaks on torches crossing from top to the bottom, left to right, until the truth has finally revealed the secret of an unquantifiable quadrant. Another segment of the outline we once had plotted and scattered on the diagram of  disconnecting variables due to the transient revelation that the silhouette of atomic denouement unexpectedly drive the primordial chance towards closure.

Underneath the paradigm of real appraisal, there are some episodic figures that can be imperpetually out of our control no matter how painstakingly hard we tried to let the centerpoint be the optimal radius of our horizontal and vertical markers.

However, people are often too marginalized with subtle conspicuous details that we usually fail to make ends meet at the center of everything. Indeed, the end justifies the means and when the outcome unveils the otherwise, the least reason to be justified comes from where and how everything should have began with it.

Start to love without an end for nothing at all. Once it begins, let love be our compass to stay alive and live life beyond the end of everything.

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