The Poet's Dream

It's fascinating to be in love dead in the middle of the chaos of this world, especially if it is the kind of love they call "one-sided" in their unmagical language. It inspires some hope in the people of the world - hope that we are capable of experiencing the highest of human emotions no matter the circumstances. And that indeed if this experience is what really matters, then what dissolves around us is nothing but the illusion of permanence.

Despite the certainty that my words would come true most dramatically, I would say, in this state of a helplessly indeliberate intoxication, "Carry on!"

Fall apart, you Old World! You have confined our souls for too long! You are the kind of world in which children are brought up to believe that scientists are unraveling mysteries and the poets are dreaming.

How much more opposed to the Truth of Being a world could be? The more science has explored, the more the atom has split and split and split. And when this world has reached its inevitable crumbling end, we realize, all of us were sleeping, and the poet was awake, composing!