“I love your poem”, she said enthusiastically.
She had seen me writing at the café and she was keen to hear what I wrote. She was nice, graceful, with a classical beauty, her elegance came from inside.

“It is good, you have managed to catch this fleeting moment of the afternoon”, she continued.
“You can almost see the beautiful sunset, rain falling, people going by…this dreamy atmosphere.”

She had a glance as if she heard the poem with her eyes…

“Isn´t it strange”, she went on, “most of this people going by are so incredibly stupid.
They´re  always in a big hurry, as if running  a race, seeing  nothing of this simple but great beauty…”

You come to a point when whatever you undertake is fruitless. No matter the passion, good will or effort you put into that particular action, you see no real outcome. Indeed, very frustrating. Time after another, you feel defeated by some kind of relentless fate. The more you try, the less you achieve.

What do you do…? To act is hopeless, inaction is no answer either. In plain language,
to do or not to do, doesn´t change a thing…You´re powerless. Stuck. You can´t solve the problem.
You just don´t find the right solution. The utter futility of human endeavour.

In this powerlessness, something happens. You are ready to surrender. To accept whatever it is, the way it is. You realize your limit. Surrender to what is, is unspeakable sorrow, as you no longer can flee your sorrow.
You can try to flee, but whatever you do, whoever you meet – your sorrow will be…