Reading Rimbaud. A passage called Credo in Unam. The Gods lose love and they fall in love again. They are stuck in the stupor and bliss of the heavens, and yet they still experience human emotions.
And this is the backdrop for the problems of the human world. Perhaps they are not problems, but merely issues or ideas. Limitations of the human mind. Even if there are limitations, what of it? The Gods are no more free than their children. They remain ignorant. Willfully ignorant, and in doing so they remain the greater disappointment.
This is starting to feel pretty good. As the bitterness of Rimbaud’s writing lie crisp with the burnt coffee, underneath the sobering noon sun after too many drunk nights and lethargic morning hangovers.