Cloudy sunshine emits more light than a lighted room.
Compared to nature, the mind is an unvisited tomb,
Which in darkness picks over the remains of its dead,
Traces of memories fooling itself in a foolish head.
The mind is only an eye, and, when the mind is its own subject, a subject of gloom,
Trapped by its own melancholy, and when it fights
Sad feelings with happy thoughts, it deludes itself with small lights.
The reassurances of the depressed
Repeat themselves in a skull which admits no light, no guest.
“There’s no one here!” Examine the mind,
And the eyeless discovers it cannot find the blind.
Instead, change slightly the old and visible in that piece of history we know as a day,
And make new melody with bright error inside harmony. Seek joy and knowledge that way.