Almost unbearable.

I see the world, I look at every corner I can glance,
and all the beauty that accumulates is overwhelming;
I watch the gruesome actions of Men, the horror and the stupidity,
and all of it is so sordid and senseless that it becomes unbearable.

And now and again I sink in nostalgia, or I dive in dreams,
because it's so much easier to dwell in good moments,
though the feeling of them slipping through the fingertips of the mind
can be quite frustrating and again unbearable.

Sliding back and forth in the unbearable lightness of existing
and the darkness of being
I can hear the heavy rain tap on the door and scratching the walls
and then the thunders come and kick them down,
make them disappear in massive explosions,
and all this just to show me that I can bear it all.