I Have The Impression That If He

She Was Here On Earth To Make Sense Of Its Wild Enchantments.

Everything Established, Settled, Everything To Do With Home And Order And The Common Ground, Has Crumbled Into Dust And Has Been Swept Away In The General Upheaval And Reorganization Of The Whole Of Society. The Whole Human Way Of Life Has Been Destroyed And Ruined. All That's Left Is The Bare, Shivering Human Soul, Stripped To The Last Shred, The Naked Force Of The Human Psyche For Which Nothing Has Changed Because It Was Always Cold And Shivering And Reaching Out To Its Nearest Neighbor, As Cold And Lonely As Itself.

Farewell, My Great One, My Own, Farewell, My Pride, Farewell, My Swift, Deep, Dear River, How I Loved Your Daylong Splashing, How I Loved To Plunge Into Your Cold Waves.

Salvation Lies Not In The Faithfulness To Forms, But In The Liberation From Them.

I Have Been Writing In Spurts, Bit By Bit. It Is Incredibly Difficult. Everything Is Corroded, Broken, Dismantled; Everything Is Covered With Hardened Layers Of Accumulated Insensitivity, Deafness, Entrenched Routine. It Is Disgusting.