Wednesday, March 12, 2008
- 6:33 pm
a million different colours coalesce before me, intertwining, snaking through my vision; rivers cutting a path through desert sands, only to disappear once more in the distance. the world is a series of black, white and the grey in between, a monochromatic menagerie before a bitter smile. to be a jumbled set of random variables, set in a world of constancy. the vision of the soul forced again in time to the march; breaks ranks like the tide against the rocky shore of agitation.
she
we spin skeins of thread to no purpose, and then pull back. such glorious glowing beauty that as ever beheld; and held apart by uncommon nature. to invade perfection is to take colour; so have sympathy for the devil, he knows not what he does. to seek an end to emptiness is to live unfulfilled, for the meaningless variables we are. and yet, we stumble across gloried constants, to genuflect upon and to love; but too soon, too fast, and to be held away lest we sully the unblemished nature of being.
silvery needles of water dart down from the sky, theatrically crushed against the firmament, and i wonder, in this loveless waste.
fin
hit the stars
