Oisín

What literally describes me, absolutely, without deviation nor an iota of change, is the melancholy, the spoken word of the broken-hearted observer in Wilde’s “Quia Multum Amavi”. I am in life, perhaps until I’m covered in the inescapable imminent cold clay, the impassioned. I am this very day, the drinker of the “dreadful wine”....I know, I feel the eternal pain of my not loving more, choosing to like.. “Through all those summer days of joy and rain”....I join this issuu as a much poorer man. A state created by myself. A state impossible to change