Today, I wouldn’t feel the real, merchant-killer glances at the Real: Are you superfluous on this planet? Maybe I will get out of the absurd cycle of Existence sooner? My friends: If they were still, or have been, or could be - they gave up on me as micro-minutes of irises they disappeared like a bolt of lightning! Everyone already knew and guessed, they didn't tell me the hard-working outsider, the thinking ancestral hermit:

You have fallen out of human graces, wish baskets for lollipops! If, as a diligent, constantly repetitive, edible Sisyphus, he looks up steeply and selfishly finds the abundance of stones he has fallen back on the mountain with his stubbornness - the Prometheus struggle is meaningless as the only sweated whole of Existence: He himself is a tragic hero - nonsense

he swears out his small nothingness every day, cursed with eternity, - in vain - but continues by faith in good faith! All-seeing, petty Gods will only have mercy on their vain calculation once! - If I, too, as this grotesque tragicomic-hero, learn: Why do nothing, and make everything that counts,

interest-forged man-pushing, humble endeavor — and I could deserve to be free to roll myself over to the other half of the mountain with easy, vicious steps, with a sure faith-consciousness: I once did not do my bitter work repeated in vain; Would the majestic lightning of Zeus strike me? Or maybe in their pride

can there be human well-being and pity even among petty leaders? Would they give sure handrails in eternal trials, the wise counsel necessary


- Where can I go? And what if I didn't fall into the gaping bottom of the depths in my helpless, petty loneliness all the time - as a compulsion to the point of death ?!