Macabre, rambling

The pain of separation can only be equated with the torment of death. There is no dearth of tranquilisers to numb such discomfort. But, alas, there’s always a new day. If for every cloud there is a silver lining, then for every silver lining there is a cloud. And such is life, a series of clouds and silver linings. I say don’t look at the sky, then. Look where, then? On the horizon? Only to find a series of sunrises and sunsets. Look nowhere then. Stop looking for metaphors or signs or meanings or reflections. Simply be. And bear.