The Mediocrity Quartet: Winter, Summer, Spring, and Autumn

A gentle breeze brushes my face, and all things awaken. I stand by the window, gazing at the vast metropolis. I neither want to ponder nor to daydream. An empty mind is useful anytime, anywhere. Brushing aside the world's petty cruelty and rigid rules, I wait inside for Godot. The world will show you what a pure soul is. What? A soul? Can I face it now? The air is filthy, my heart restless. My world has no room for anyone else's shadow. I cannot face my soul. You cannot face it because you lack wisdom. The dawn you await will never come. Never. What do you mean, never? Nothing lasts forever. Eternity does not exist. Our existence is bound by no rules. Who do you think you are? Why do you get to stand above everyone else?