This is the
beginning of everything, and this is where all things end - nothingness.
I cannot remain
a restless soul forever.
I cannot endure
the suffering inflicted upon me by my lingering doubts any longer.
I cannot.
I cannot.
Time has to
stop for me.
Yes. It has to
stop for me.
Its flow has
brought me too much sorrow,
too much pain,
too much shame.
And what is my
crime that I should deserve all this other than the fact of my birth?
And what a
crime this proved to be! Oh, what a crime. Oh, what a crime.
But no. No. The flow of time has to be stopped.
Its steady course
has to be diverted away from me, somehow.
A dam has to be
built,
and my
feeling of guilt for that unfathomable crime
has to come to an end.
It has to.
It must.
What sort of
justice is there in my continuing existence?
What sort of
wisdom can be discerned from it?
What sort of
benign will can allow it to be?
What sort of
purpose can justify it?
What sort of
reward?
For as for me,
there will always be enough justice in silence and unconsciousness.
February 1997