Such a primitive animal.
Willing, but dismantled.
Faithful, but not destined.
Apt for love, but not quite designed for it.....
Labels: Ordinary Love Stories
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Ordinary Love Story VIII
Such a primitive animal.
Willing, but dismantled.
Faithful, but not destined.
Apt for love, but not quite designed for it.....
Friday, January 11, 2008
The Greatest Story
It's nothing but idle chatter and clatter.
We slave to make ourselves heard, but we fail.
All our talk is nothing but idle chatter and clatter.
Fate is a wicked rehearsed laugh that scares the doves away: It shall prevail.
All living things must eventually submit to the three divine daughters of Zeus and Themis:
Klotho spins the thread of life.
Lakhesis determines the length of the thread.
Atropos cuts the thread when the proper time has come for death.
Then a capricious someone decides to spin the wheel of time backwards.
And now we're stuck in reverse down the time line.
A flock of Jay-birds flying rearwards at baffling speeds skillfully avoids alps and mountain peaks, they have no eyes in the back of their heads.
Anthems are sung backwards, no long practice was needed.
A man lives a full prosperous life before being reduced to a fetus and stuffed up a mother's womb, assumably to die.
The sun still dies a pious punctual death, in the east.
We color before we draw.
We rot in penitence over sins we are yet to commit.
To be able to tell The Greatest Story, one needs space and time for validation.
And free will for credibility.
"Melancholy" is probably the most beautiful word in the human book, the most felt.
But she didn't know "Melancholy". She had to look it up.
She read me the definition aloud, but nothing got through.
Like i said.
It's nothing but idle chatter and clatter.
We slave to make ourselves heard, but we fail.
All our talk is nothing but idle chatter and clatter.
Fate is a wicked rehearsed laugh that scares the doves away: It shall prevail.
All living things must eventually submit to the three divine daughters of Zeus and Themis:
Klotho spins the thread of life.
Lakhesis determines the length of the thread.
Atropos cuts the thread when the proper time has come for death.
Then a capricious someone decides to spin the wheel of time backwards.
And now we're stuck in reverse down the time line.
A flock of Jay-birds flying rearwards at baffling speeds skillfully avoids alps and mountain peaks, they have no eyes in the back of their heads.
Anthems are sung backwards, no long practice was needed.
A man lives a full prosperous life before being reduced to a fetus and stuffed up a mother's womb, assumably to die.
The sun still dies a pious punctual death, in the east.
We color before we draw.
We rot in penitence over sins we are yet to commit.
To be able to tell The Greatest Story, one needs space and time for validation.
And free will for credibility.
"Melancholy" is probably the most beautiful word in the human book, the most felt.
But she didn't know "Melancholy". She had to look it up.
"Sadness or depression of the spirits; gloom"
Like i said.
It's nothing but idle chatter and clatter.
Labels: Tales Of The Butterfly