Sunday’s score the restoration of a week, also
the anxiety in everyone’s hearts as they
wander on into an austere and incomprehensible subsistence.
With every conclusion, a new opening starts.
As soon as you’re born, you’re dying.
Through every encumbrance life can give, there always
appears to be another freedom afterward.
Despite adversity and tenderness, there is always
contentment and euphoria on the other side.
Where there is bliss, there is grief.
Where there is ecstasy, there is torture.
Good is constantly connected to evil and
life is always coupled to death.
Where there is an ego, there is an id.
Only through the mentality of the afflicted, can
we truly value their feelings.
The solitary technique to recognize is to listen, and empathize,
setting the common correlation for us as a populace to carry on.
Simply in the course of hope, can we stride through the mines
of dejection, materialize from the other side
superior to what you were upon admission,
and cast yourself as an active element
of a mentally vanishing race,
with only your position escorting you.