What can be worse than the complete agony of being in love? Yet what could possibly be a more enriching experience? Some of these entries arise out of the euphoria of first love and the rape of innocence; the rest reflect the musings of a more mature poet: one who is compelled to accept the absurdity of the transient world, but has the courage to romance it nevertheless. At times it is not even poetic... too brutal to be so. But therein lay the catharsis: purgation of life’s follies.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
It is spring. And I shall not dwell in gloom any longer; that I do promise myself. The golden sunlight rolls over and trickles down the lime green leaves into the gurgling kitchen drain which twinkles with bits of diamonds bouncing off the ripples. The breeze is gentle like the breath of a sleeping child, fragrant like the rind of a tangerine. Misty white wisps rise from my tea cup and turn into golden fumes at the touch of the splintered light straining through the kitchen window, dancing and swirling with the white lace curtains to some unheard tune. The whispering melody flows into my mind, my veins and capillaries; filling the languid stillness of the morning with some joy unknown. I remain happy just to exist. A mere particle in the cosmic chaos, oblivious of any fatalistic outcome of the great pattern, but filled to the brim with its fair share of joy, ready to bounce off and roll over the hurdles that the present day might offer.
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