What do we do now, now that we are happy?
We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.
The old endless chain of love, tolerance, indifference, aversion and disgust
Love requited is a short circuit.
But I was not made for the great light that devours, a dim lamp was all I had been given, and patience without end, to shine it on the empty shadows.
Light black. From pole to pole.