Tuesday, December 29, 2009

"Love is the flower - you've got to let grow." - John Lennon

"You write well"
"Did you understand"
"I didn't, and I don't want to either"

Three lines and yet they can mean so much. I'm asked why I think or feel the way i do..but ever so often I come across conversations or just general passings like these and I feel..what else can I do?When somethings' right there in your face, as clear as the sunlight that brightens what was once dark you can't help but see it. It's as simple as that.
Reasoning with things like this will be taking the fool's way out.

With love you can set the world apart
With love you can conquer all limitations
With love you can make the world go around
But take caution, with love you can make the world stop

Some of the greatest art has taken root from Love
From the feeling of love
But none have succeeded in putting it down to a definition.

For some it's sacrifice
For some it's a search
For many, it's the only reason to live
For some it's a pursuit which is second only to that longing one has for god

Some search for it
Some acheive it
Some deny it's existence
Some, lose it.

And when love is lost..it creates havock
No, words can even begin to portray what love is
We can discuss it at length and not get tiered
It feels both wonderful and terrible at the same time.
It has the power to destroy the very being it's giving life to

"Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eye, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind." - William Shakespeare

Sunday, December 27, 2009

An Eternal Accomplice

She crept up on me the day i first breathed
She made me alive
She took over a peice of my heart
and has increased her space there since
Slowly..her clutch on my heart increases
In the darkest of hours she held my hand
Never let me go numb
She spoke to me in lonely hours
She has been my sole companion at my waking hours for a while now
Hers is the hand that rocked my cradle
and hers will be the hand that lights up my funeral pyre
She is ever present,
in bliss, in laughter, in madness
who is she you wonder?
she rises when all else falls
she takes precedence over all that the heart feels
Longing, Love, Hate, Happiness
Some know her as misery
Some call her sorrow
She makes the bed our soul rests on
We live because she makes us live.

“The time to hesitate is through.”

“The time to hesitate is through.”
Jim Morrison-Poet