the world’s cruelty
is so extreme — my only
escape is smallness

This poem is a rewriting on 4th November, of a poem originally written on the 3rd. What follows is a part of the text which accompanied the original poem. I have edited out the bits that are no longer relevant. The original poem was more about kindness, and this one is more about cruelty. I’ve spent a lot of effort on the revision. Worth it though. I am fascinated by the opposites of cruelty and kindness. They seem much more important and helpful to remember as being contained, both of them, within me, as compared with the more abstract good and evil.

I had a difficult day at work yesterday. Kindness isn’t particularly highly prized in the scheme of things — at least that’s my sense — when it comes to the workplace as defined by goals, targets, outcomes and all the rest. I felt the lack of it (kindness) yesterday. But that’s a lack in me of course. The environment just serves as a hook for projection. I dreamed of Edwin (Max) Landsberg last night. Not the kindest human being I ever encountered. The dream was long and intricately recalled.


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