Such an earthly being, noticing the frozen outside those
graves, no one to help cure, no poet for comfort, as for
myself, a mere echo, the afternoon, golden vast, peering
up, for I’m too used for angst and grief, oh reality, it is
tiring engaging with those emotions. Sigh. Flowers with
frozen dew on top, effort none, lost beauty, source mixing
well, intertwined with mystery, grips and holding onto,
loss of time is a loss of life, potential and so forth, I’m
holding a faithful longing, that things will brighten, matching
that sun that rises daily. Enlarged silence. For my inner
world does not match the outside, neither in the vice versa.
Wonder if I shall quit?