187

no tower of babel was required. he understood nothing anyone said
in any language. not even any of the nonsense he himself continually
spewed. but, dumbfounded, might this not have been a heaven too?

.
.

186

his was the surest of paths,
futility never needed to be sought.

.

.

185

mornings would always elude him
—there was simply no awakening.

.
.

184

some sought symbols,
but found only things.
others sought things,
but found only symbols.
he, however, remained unsure
and would not settle for either.

.
.

183

he suspected that he had entered a new phase
—one in which it would appear that nothing,
absolutely nothing, had changed.

.
.

182

his limp only became apparent
when he sat completely still.

.
.

181

sitting on the side of the road,
he would once again find himself
enveloped in a fog of clarity.

.
.

180

he looked up; but, in a brief moment of honesty,
had to admit that the view was essentially the same.

.
.

179

setting down his cup, it readily found the ground of its world;
while his simply fell away.

.
.

178

unsupported
he would lean into the light.

.

.

177

he might have felt that life was fleeting,
yet even that would have been overstating it.

.
.

176

the curtains had been drawn
yet light still spilled into the room,
leaving him to wonder
whether it was the world or him
that had sprung a leak.

.
.

175

he suspected that freedom,
if freedom there were,
would lie not in choosing
but rather in remaining
within the unsupported.

.
.

174

even though so much was denied him
he always had the melancholy surface of things.

.
.

173

for him
the insignificant
would always
provide succour.

.

.

172

it seemed that he was never able to look away,
though such inner insomnia also had its price.

.

.

171

all attempts at clarity,
especially those successful,
only ever seemed to lead
to further obscurity.

.

.

170

there came a point when it appeared
that those who genuinely cared,
not for themselves but for others,
could only ever live in perpetual grief.

.
.

169

though quite sombre by nature,
he nonetheless found it difficult
to take things too seriously;
especially upon realizing that eternity
was only ever perceived
in the most fleeting of glimpses.

.
.

168

and what of the fact that the lightness he often felt
could just as easily bear down with incredible force
almost crushing him?

.
.