The source of all sadness distantly beats. Waves of sadness plow through the streets, Massive and bearing down on their mark, Tearing through bus stop and building and park.
Under pressure of enormity, Time grows long and my identity, Erodes in the minds of the ones I recall, Leaving me tender and sobbing and small.
Standing in market or courtyard or park, Slowly relieved so slowly I start. The source of all sadness has ungripped my heart.