There was one place where the poet could find ease from his disease. One day one of his favorite musicians was playing in a small club in the hip part of town, and despite all he was enduring--the thoughts, the emotions, the loss of his girlfriend, the near-total loss of his sanity, his alcoholic levels of drinking--he decided well in advance to get tickets and go to this show.
As the night approached, the weather was terrible--it had been raining for days and the temperature was headed down towards the freezing mark. He was tired of hearing everyone's dire thoughts about the weather--how much mental space did this world devote to sour feelings towards something they had absolutely no control over?! He enjoyed the rain and the cold--people were inside, watching a lot of Netflix, having fewer thoughts, and he could hide with relatively more peace in his apartment. He always liked cold, gloomy weather anyway.
He arrived at the show not on time but not late either, and the opening act was pleasant. It was when the main act--the man he had come to see--took the stage that the poet had his epiphany.
All he could hear was the music.