Curse of the Exception

Do you know the affairs of the eagle?
As it soars on high,
And tastes the air,
Its feathers beaten as it climbs
Its breath heaves and sighs
Thus does it soar- but alone!
Despite its pain, nothing comes to shake lose a thousand stored tears
A keen ear hears a voice of death vibrating across an expanse of sorrows
For pity one did weep with broken fingers before the altars of Venus
And for hardness did another dismiss and defray the arrows of cupid
What knows the shallows of this?
Or the deep Well which never dries?
Shall the timid yet draw but one cup
And flee there from,
Afraid they shall fall in and drown!
Better they draw from the pond- for from its surface than can see its bottom
For the fool who dared fate, dared for a single blessing
Ending in love despised and heart denied
While another tossed his dice, breathing easy with his turn
Some stones are better left unturned- every stone is more beautiful when it has gathered moss.
Some sights are better left behind us, lest we turn to behold them and become pillars of salt.
The laws cackled upon the multitude, to chain great and low,
But upon a sight did they cringe,
“Thee, genus of Genius, do we see our Creator and Destroyer, And in this, we shall find a way to destroy you....”
Thus went the curse of the exception