writer asks:
Do you not care what is happening?
POET replies:
All is temporal.
writer pleads:
Have you no compassion?
POET replies:
Is fashion a spirit? Does vanity know the chasms of soul?
writer whines:
You, self serving, aggrandizer are final judgement?
POET replies:
Can leaf know tree? To rail with gust of wind is the province of comedy and drama. Has a speck ever envisioned a vast horizon? Does even a star shine in the vacuums of the cosmos? Dear poor writer, keep to jottings and fickle weathers and not worry yourself on any numina or contemplations.
