i have felt longing and warmth trough tattered rags and linen cloth...
pain is but a shallow cover up, an infinite loop of swirls and tumbles...
comparable to a surfing wipe-out you are a tumbling doll under the water lost, swirling, not knowing which way is up nor down... yet you stay a float banging in to the crashing waves. the current puling you deeper and deeper till all you have is loaned air. you realize how important it is to breathe. how miniscule you are on the depths of the flowing seas.
i have felt LOVE trough sunbeams and shadows, trough pink foam spectacles...
i have manage to be a ghost of my generation being born at the wrong time, i am here, yet living on the edges of my soul... love is but a figment of your imagination, yet we chase for it like a monumental child in all its glory and awe. Ironies that we can never resolve, a conundrum of thoughts, feelings, and emotions that we are willing to take around our necks and tie to the nearest tree to dangle upon. The grip of the rope and the burn of the lariat taunt on your skin. That being so, the thug of finality before the concluding crack turns in to your refuge! and slowly you learn to accept the tunneling vision. utill a darker shade of black is all you see and you come to the realization that hope is lost you beckon to it, you follow it trough... it shall be easier that way....
and just like a butterfly on a summers eve you appear my elementary and rudimentary salvation.
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