On my quest
I feel so confused and restless.
set on fire my heart explodes
with the pain of separation.
in this struggle, i am caught forever
unless i go beyond this
you and I
Grasping at things can only yield one of two results: Either the thing you are grasping at disappears, or you yourself disappear. It is only a matter of which occurs first.
That life is really so tragic would least of all explain the origin of an art form—assuming that art is not merely imitation of the reality of nature but rather a metaphysical supplement of the reality of nature, placed beside it for its overcoming.