Great is the day when you wake up in the morning
without an alarm clock.
You don’t have to get up and you can lie there for about 15 minutes
listening to noises of your surroundings.
And among them you discern that very peculiar one
of water dripping from the kitchen faucet.
Your ditch is hollow.
So much space but nothing to fill it with!
You yourself now lie on the floor with water
dripping on your forehead.
Great is the day when you still have your forehead
and nothing is dripping from it.
You stand up and walk to the bathroom;
your bare feet step on the freezing tile.
If it wasn’t so unbearably hot, it would be winter.
If you weren’t covered in sweat now, you would be shivering.
Great is the day when you’re not shivering.
You met a friend for lunch. Both of you ate;
he shook your hand and left.
You stayed behind and sat among the leftovers.
Great is the day when there are leftovers
and great is the day when there are spaces to fill.
But you feel distressed
because what you see is shallow beauty –
fictitious, intentional and forced.
Great is the day when there are still remains of beauty.
And so you want to go on living
even though your lunch didn’t satisfy your hunger.
Then you come home
and even though your ditch is hollow
at least it’s familiar.
At least the space in it belongs to you
and even though right now you have no clue of what to do or how to act
you have a funny premonition
that perhaps someday in the future
you will be able to figure it out.
Great is the day when there will still be future.