My Ideal Goal Is To

Yet What Is To Be Done With Events That Have No Place Of Their Own In Time; Events That Have Occurred Too Late, After The Whole Of Time Has Been Distributed, Divided, And Allotted; Events That Have Been Left In The Cold, Unregistered, Hanging In The Air, Homeless, And Errant?

Now The Windows, Blinded By The Glare Of The Empty Square, Had Fallen Asleep. The Balconies Declared Their Emptiness To Heaven; The Open Doorways Smelt Of Coolness And Wine.

Lifelessness Is Only A Disguise Behind Which Hide Unknown Forms Of Life.

How Can One Not Succumb And Allow One's Courage To Fail When Everything Is Shut Tight, When All Meaningful Things Are Walled Up, And When You Constantly Knock Against Bricks, As Against The Walls Of A Prison?

So, It Comes To Pass That, When We Pursue An Inquiry Beyond A Certain Depth, We Step Out Of The Field Of Psychological Categories And Enter The Sphere Of The Ultimate Mysteries Of Life. The Floorboards Of The Soul, To Which We Try To Penetrate, Fan Open And Reveal The Starry Firmament.