Perhaps you have not yet thought about how much it weighs on your chest when you feel how and how the secret of your arbitrary weight changes before an imaginary tribunal. The wandering, opaque mass of yeses attracts you at the same time, but also weighs you down; the conscious saying no would be much more tempting. Because this current gutted, disemboweled Age, in which the individual as a creative individual has largely ceased to exist, is eating away your self-confidence to the core, with a wrinkled smile on a scattered corner of the mouth, because - as is well known - every defeat leads to misery, but never supports its victims.

The lack of the solid Nirvana-nothing would rather sweep away the rustling, melancholy limbs of Existence into nothingness; more than a million octopus claws of futility are grasping at you. Because the unknown, difficult-to-reconcile equations of emotions should be sorted out and solved, the power of calls and friendly gestures attracts even the naive-minded, because it comes from above downwards, the emptiness nicknamed permanent hangs all the way to the depths of the soul's cave.

The worst thing is that it is known: everything and everyone is overtaken from behind by the past, then by memory, until finally there may be no one and nothing left to which one once truly attached. And like a loose stone throw, the course of things falls a little every second like a whirling wedding of petals. - A sickening, nervous battle, a vow is heard: the smoldering-headed arrow of the Universe is questioning itself. As grace, mercy, redemption, it would cut through the harmony-silence in vain, like a double-edged sword that can only manipulate and manipulate with the selfish, greedy will from which it was taken.