The sudden outburst shown by rock singers,

The sudden outburst shown by rock singers,
that they destroy the very instrument they let go of their music---
All of a sudden the harsh harmony they've loved so had became unbearably despicable, and the life that produces that rhythm and beats...
in the breaking of guitars of these rock singers, I think, shows that joy is never sorrow in disguise, or joy and sorrow are twofold.
but joy seeks something else, for joy is action that occurs when there is the forgotten absence of sorrowful thinking.
It occurs as there is no higher will that transmutes tears to laughter.
That kind of exchange from silver to gold is quite a dumb metaphor to be used here.
Joy is a fanged boar that forages through the void of space as an apostate of God's sorrow-pathos. It is baseless. It is hopeless. It is vain and mendacious. That is what joy must be. When one abandons the certainty of woes in search of an eternity while possessing no uplifting assurance. No eternal woman to hoist the pained minstrels high. Those who sing for joy must thus know they are abandoned by the universe. For joy is sinful in the world of suffering. And it is a fabrication that God had no plan for. A black lie we told ourselves. A shower of drunken stupor.
And when joy has been emptied of its contents, sorrow flood in. That is the apparent reason of joy and sorrow being in company of each other. For joy cannot yet overcome human condition. But joy is an eidolon that can be shaped to such perfect image, that the entire universe along with its sorrow might flee before it. Yet when it is yet unfinished, this eternity that is always failing and restarting, even the greatest artisan had to feed it pathos of pain, ressentiment, self-justification, always and always. For it is difficult to imagine and build a tower of faith without foundation. And that is why Blake's Orc as a prisoner of faith had to accept the charity-bread from the daughters of Urizen----the salt-pillars of the temple of sober Reason.
But a man can break a guitar while singing his favourite rhyme.
Blake himself added a line in one version of the manuscript of his visionary song "America, a prophecy".
And to me personally, the act of downing almost a whole bottle of pernicious, darkgreen absinthe in a minute. And then scoffing at how tiny this vessel for alcohol is. A sign of my faith that even the act of carousal-drinking is a petty stopgap. Not in the transcendental way and I will not say I desire the wine and mead in paradise. But joy of inebriation exists for me by even drinking water. I could become an ascetic and monk and live in a desert. I could chant blissful verses daily and nightily. I could become a medicant and wonderworker for people. I could become a speaker of truth and eternity. I could be and probably am becoming a poet.
but how little these tiny vessels can hold. If I break the pen or keyboard---figuratively, then music still flows in dark and dim streams of ink. If i will not to write then I will become written. The same as those rock singers who break their guitars so they gain temporary silence from songs. The joy is such a thing that even the enjoyable pain of plucking the string is too numbing and unexciting for it. Even an eternity of such enjoyable pain is too little. The joy must break through all the foreseeable dimensions of the universe.
The Moon that would split according to prophecy, must be broken first beforehand...