of this world. All things twice over.
The strong clocks justify
the splitting hour,
You , clamped
into your deepest part,
climb out of yourself
I thought about this little poem with such infinite meaning for the majority of today. The mind is still being fueled by it.
The inner state of his soul might be compared to a demolished building, which has been demolished so that from it a new one could be built; but the new one has not been started yet, because the infinitive plan has not yet come from the architect and the workers are left in perplexity.