It has its own direction now
If before I mastered the fringes
Now I'm hapless sail
In the winds of your majesty
Why is it my fragments
That must entice you
Mere echos of interest
But I cannot dilute nature
Must I quiet the passion
As this will not map your path
Just quell the moment
Each meeting transitory
Can the wildness be anchored
Each ache somehow transmuted
So it is not asymmetric
But ongoing in its journey
Xxxxxx
Highlighted post
Feelings start
~Something visceral And beautifully wild Shimmering ripples Beginning inside Not just body Or even heart You sing the songs Th...
Popular content
-
Sapiosexual, according to the Collins Dictionary online is “one who finds intelligence the most sexually attractive feature" and the &... -
Today I have been thinking about the dawn. The transition between times. Where the tendrils of night hold onto the day. It is the long, rel...
-
I assumed the comments on my blog weren't working, mostly because I haven't had any for sooooo long. I just did an anonymous commen...
-
I’m living in a world of hobbits. Not literally because then we’d be in Middle-Earth. However, there appears to be many short men on dati... -
Television - the art of escape. Not as imaginative, impressive, culturally elite or poetic as the power of a good book but never-the-less t... -
~Something visceral And beautifully wild Shimmering ripples Beginning inside Not just body Or even heart You sing the songs Th...
No comments:
Post a Comment