266-7
The thought drags sluggishly,
The word has tangled in dreams,
There is no striving toward anything,
Calm resembles a crash.
Well then, the fullness of comfort,
Was I not walking toward it?
But challenges of another sort
Offer another catch.
In park or in neutral
You will not relax for long.
By inertia I will go to work —
Something will happen.