If only the day would start at night.
If only the day would start in general.
If only the day would start in the morning.
If only the day were a work.
And... a joy?
Joy is the too great expectation of everything that happens.
Going towards the day without joy...
What is there not anger in you!
And about anger one must talk.
Or live it out.
But who is awake in the middle of the day...
And angry in a healthy form
So that all that anger would be a helpful monopoly.
Celebrate the day?
And everything is concussion!
Why can't I just stand?
Why do I have to feel anger?
Why can't I love my work?
Why do I think so much?
I'm hungry and I can't eat.
I can eat but I feed on anger!
I want to leave! To a place where it's better...
But every time I left I came back to the home.
Finding a new home is almost impossible.
In my home I have probably the greatest love on earth upon me.
This love does not exist in our world anymore!
Charity no longer exists.
So the wanderer will not find a home any more either.
And then again to stimulate the other to think!
That you think!
Everything could have been over here!
But just live the day!
To live the day!
Is it so hard?
And the world doesn't change at my feet.
Man no longer has the sea at his feet.
The water that rustles.
Man no longer has all that!
Man... you have taken a lot of things that are quiet and different.
The day is full of work and hectic.
People who no longer think!
Think as we once did!
And everything is helpless...
How can man think of me?
Man must go to the peace of nature.
Into the leafy forest.
Or to the rushing sea!
Toutes les droites appartiennent à son auteur Il a été publié sur e-Stories.org par la demande de Maximilian Wohler.
Publié sur e-Stories.org sur 18.11.2020.