Without the dark,
How would we know light?
If I could not see your face as I rise in the morning, I doubt
whether I would get up at all.
Such a rose.
Now endure this ray of sunshine,
get up, get up,
a new light is taking flight.
To mope/to wallow, perhaps just fallow,
there is more to life than this.
THE REGRESSIONAL SLIP:
Follow perpetually (there is no such thing),
This contemptible affliction.
The crush will. Become a dramaturgical fixation,
despair and inability to go forth –
even from bed.