I speak of things i feel, so primordial, that structured expression kills the essence.
I speak of things i see.
so easy to ignore, yet, so crucial
I find release in the seeming disorder of my Poetry; the subtle signs i see.
Monday, November 02, 2009
deep down
in indigo skies the dying moon fades; and as music dies, all disappear; into stoic nothingness.
meandering mind: there's is no discovery in nothingness and if one does find something in it, it is not natural, unholy i dont wish that on anyone and least of all you
Merin: <3
slash: nothing is eternal there can be no coming back from it or goign forward, ever.
Oh how I wish!!!
ReplyDeletein nothingness
I would find myself
Into nothingness indeed.
ReplyDeleteI(we) could do with a little less of your disappearances though.
This is nice.
ReplyDeleteThe music dies? Or transforms into the symphony that is the fading moon? The nothingness is nothing but a coda.
wow
ReplyDeletesuch brevity and so much out of it..
I am reading more of u
meandering mind:
ReplyDeletethere's is no discovery in nothingness
and if one does find something in it, it is not natural,
unholy
i dont wish that on anyone
and least of all you
Merin:
<3
slash:
nothing is eternal
there can be no coming back from it
or
goign forward,
ever.
vikas:
take my advice, dont.