Tumult was my table,
tohu-vavohu my daily bread.
Half my passion
was another man’s fatigue
and I was wandering,
wandering, down a road without a sign
where all the other travellers
were blessed or blind.
The din of life
was loud and overwhelming.
I heard it as if every orchestral player
was playing from a different score.
And I was losing half my mind
along with all the other travellers,
some of whom were blessed,
and some of whom were merely blind.



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I wonder which side of the mind is lost, left or right... 

)
