EYES TO CRY WITH

In my imagination tears are linked to something luxuriant, excessive, to something that from one moment to the next changes to uncontrolled laughter: I love fun and perhaps because of this I scorn irony.
We should abandon things to their own solitude, prepare ourselves for invention, make ourselves incomprehensible, not for lack of affection, but because we have too many things to say. When ideas are flooding in, making it impossible to transmit them, then the deriving images shall be really simple and comprehensible.
Thus a work of art is created by an excess of meaning that cannot otherwise be declared and evoked, except by the work itself.
The joy I see in the look of my beloved speaks to me of the desert (populated with plants); my eyes, not finding a fixed point, something to concentrate on, but which are stunned with joy, cry images.

I hope that we will still have tears to shed and eyes to cry with.