...two thirds of all sorrow is homemade and, so far as the universe is concerned, unnecessary. - Aldous Huxley

The silence of the storm weighs heavily
On their strained spirits: sometimes one will say
Some trivial thing as though to ward away
Mysterious powers, that imminently lie
In wait, with the strong exorcising grace
Of everyday's futility. Desire
Becomes upon a sudden a crystal fire,
Defined and hard: If he could kiss her face,
Could kiss her hair! As if by chance, her hand
Brushes on his ... Ah, can she understand?
Or is she pedestalled above the touch
Of his desire? He wonders: dare he seek
From her that little, that infinitely much?
And suddenly she kissed him on the cheek.

Medical Science has made such tremendous progress that there is hardly a healthy human left.

I'm afraid of losing my obscurity. Genuineness only thrives in the dark. Like celery.