Tuesday, November 13, 2007 as one procrastinates with surrogate blinkersand the sunlight streams in, too early for tender stones, too bright for hoarse silk, I can almost taste the dewdrops on my lips, a to-be memory until the next occurrence, the next event, the next fall of rain, the next milestone. That it will come, I do not doubt, the wild card being the manner of its arrival. That swords may cross Would that I be able to depict the riot of colours I've lived with painted words, along with the darkened shades of previous epochs that glow and fade with each re-telling, where each reliving of it changes present perception and self. For dead arches The tyranny of the past has the power to emasculate, but it can also be rendered impotent when faced with the intangible promise of the sublime. Something I learn again, and again, and again. Hope in its various guises, carrying the wand of dancing fire. That one will have it so I live (!), not for, but in the suspended moment - in the waking dreams of the morning glory (flower) - or so it seems. Bewitched by the truth (of all things!), I am, bothered, yes, bewildered, yes, but in the best way possible. Without Pavlovian objectifying, without the ghosts of tangled cut strings. That it is all of my own making, my very own, and I have no regrets whatsoever she procrastinated @ 08:05 | |
blueprint I will like to spend my days, as though they are my own, which I mostly end up doing in halves, for duty beckons, and I am answering its clarion call. Soon enough! I am also a veteran procrastinator. fresh monodies but for a single drink of water which leaves you w... previous rants August 2004 treatises on life arty jen frivolous pursuits for shallow ppl mulling over "One is wicked, because one see things clearly." - Beaumarchais's Le nozze di Figaro.And there were phlegmatic souls.
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