Thursday, November 10, 2011


It is different from despair. Unlike in despair, there is still some music in melancholy. A low, sonorous song that has in it, ever, the awareness of the light, however distant. Despair knows no light. Despair leans into the hereafter as if into a headwind. In despair one's eyes are closed to beauty, to love, to peace, because of a disbelief that canvasses all awareness and thus inspires a general turning away.

Melancholy, on the other hand, leaves the eyes at half mast, the heart soft and tenable. It moves like a slow-trolling boat, gentle, gentle, and speaks nothing at all, though all manner of darkness accost it, because when the expectation for sadness is met with sadness, what is there to do but wonder at the likeness and carry on as before?

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