DISHEVELLED MUSING

Stand still on the edge of your pitiful life for a moment, before you are finally taken in by the gaping, underworldly abyss, the death-whispering night of the abysses. When you are still yourself, perhaps, you can enter the resin-scented, incense-scented silence to hear what the beating of your increasingly hard-served heart whispers. Feel free to look along the tortuous path you took to get here.

Human crypt-sad faces, in many cases, seem strangers now so near, where chasing hate has crept in; they become strangers where once you stopped to introspect and hoped you might have another chance! Thy stubborn thorn temper to defend thyself must not be worn out in vain, If stars of faith can but flicker, and friendly handshakes are fading fast.

Stop, if you will, on the edge of your life, if you feel that the decisive moment has come, and you know deep down that you can rarely stretch your tyrant-eyed self-mortification any further! When your thoughts, like wise words of kindness, surround you, you yourself may be a more valuable man, for you have listened and listened to the creative silence of the world, which has sent you its comforting messages!

And if thine brain-coils have long rebelled against thee, Demanding the corrective, sober reason, Always listen in secret to what the secret secret of thy heart May whisper to thee. It is not Time, nor the World that shrinks, shrinks. Thou canst be but a pondering molecular cell, Who develops itself according to its interests. Raging rages, bellowing bull-roars, you know, are worthless.

From your wounds hidden in yourself, you can still build your unforgettable character! And even if you are often seized by a hesitantly bitter temper, you must still look at yourself as a necessary muse and ponder for a minute on your life!