Lost losses

The crisis of folly

When I wander all alone among the ruins
drowning in the melancholy of a desperation
that could hardly be more utterly supreme,
the final comfort and solution to your troubles
seems to be the peace and calm of death,
and you are ready to give up all that
which wasn’t lost already;
and then suddenly
a voice is heard among the ruins
calling your attention to reality,
the real reality, not all the bankruptcies
and phoney mundane crises of materialism,
but love alone, its beauty and self-confidence
remaining as inviolable, unassailable and sovereign as ever,
and your friend with kindness tells you softly:
“All your tears are gold to me,
for they remind me that I’m needed
if for nothing else, then for your comfort,
since my love exists alone
for keeping you alive
and keeping up our universal love together,
which is something that you never can give up.
Forgive me for reminding you.”
And suddenly all love was gloriously rekindled,
in comparison with which all worldly troubles
vanished beyond the horizon, lost forever,
since there is but one reality:
the love that liveth.