procijep

pain is easy to write. in pain we're all happily individual.
but what can one write about happiness?

(...) the world, which seems
to lie before us like a land of dreams,
so various, so beautiful, so new,
hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
and we are here as on a darkling plain
swept with confused alarm of struggle and flight,
while ignorant armies clash by night.

"dover beach" 1867, matthew arnold

godinu dana poslije.
čitava vječnost. treptaj oka?
o, mili... pomislit na život koji sada vodiš
ne olakšava mi
ovaj moj.