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.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
I ask you: ‘Is love still there?’ ‘Don’t know…think so’, you say Meaning: there is none.
Then why do you call me so, Talking of life and us? Meaning, there is none.
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