Introspective passivity never turns into anything useful.

POEMS NUMBER 1 AND 2.
Rage against the night until the morning light breaks up the darkness.
The night just fades away into the onslaught of the day. Tattered love also fades away, floating on the waters of oblivion.
Time passes in the stealth of silence. The illusions of reality are just about to take place, even when you look away. Ephemeral convictions never return to bother you again. Besides, they mattered not; you had overvalued them at the beginning.
Introspective passivity never turns into anything useful. It mostly devolves into sadness and sorrow. Clarity will never show up, and you can bet on it.

BURNING BRIGHTLY IN THE DARKNESS OF THE FOREST’S NIGHT.
FRAMING THE SYMMETRY OF THE NIGHT’S BLACKNESS UNTIL THE MORNING LIGHT COMES SHINING THROUGH TO REMOVE THE NIGHT’S DARKNESS. THE FOREST ONCE AGAIN SURROUNDS YOU. ALL OF YOUR SECRETS ARE AGAIN IN PLAIN SIGHT. THE OPEN DOORS ARE CLOSING IN ON YOU. YOU ARE BACK ON THE INSIDE, LOOKING OUT AT THEIR POINT OF VIEW. UNTIL THEY TURN THEIR BACKS ON YOU. ISOLATION IS YOUR CONSTANT COMPANION. YOU CAN ONLY WAIT FOR THE MIDNIGHT HOUR TO BEGIN THE PROCESS AGAIN.
DEAD TO LIVE, LIVING IN THE NEXT.