In A Room Where People Unanimously Maintain

And If There Is No Lining To The World? If A Thrush On A Branch Is Not A Sign, But Just A Thrush On The Branch? If Night And Day Make No Sense Following Each Other?

I Was Left Behind With The Immensity Of Existing Things. A Sponge, Suffering Because It Cannot Saturate Itself; A River, Suffering Because Reflections Of Clouds And Trees Are Not Clouds And Trees.

Leaves Glowing In The Sun, Zealous Hum Of Bumblebees, From Afar, From Somewhere Beyond The River, Echoes Of Lingering Voices And The Unhurried Sounds Of A Hammer Gave Joy Not Only To Me. Before The Five Senses Were Opened, And Earlier Than Any Beginning They Waited, Ready, For All Those Who Would Call Themselves Mortals, So That They Might Praise, As I Do, Life, That Is, Happiness.

Do You Know How It Is When One Wakes At Night Suddenly And Asks, Listening To The Pounding Heart: What More Do You Want, Insatiable?

Men Will Clutch At Illusions When They Have Nothing Else To Hold To.