I am writing a eulogy

I am writing a eulogy

it’s meant for me

just to help me sleep a bit

when it’s raining outside

and warily, I must

look for the spark of joy

a mezzanine between

my ego and my empathy.

I know how easy

it is to foster distance,

measuring it with

your hands’ inveterate longing

for a week without traffic,

without noise, without humans

and their gangrenous joy.

I am writing a eulogy

it’s meant for me.

Olafur Arnalds – Haust

*Photo by Anirban Ghosh on Unsplash

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