I Often Forget What I Cannot Put into Words

The question is how I can hold on to it, how I can remember. How can I remember brightness through days of unending rain, or keep the dawn in mind through a long night?

And yet the question itself implies something: that I must endure the present, that this time is not mine, that this is the human world and heaven comes afterward. So the rain must have its own days too, and even the long night can be dear. Putting the two side by side is not meant to prove one better than the other. If I favor one, how can I embrace the other?

I wonder whether I really have a preference. No. Cloudy days and sunny days, today and tomorrow: every day feels the same. Indoors or outdoors, here or there: everywhere feels alike. That is why I get bored. There really seems to be no difference. When something does feel different, it is because I choose, because something outside me acts upon me and I respond.