Life's Little Lamentation

Now the Putrid Pauper walks along the road of Wisdom. On a road as such he is bound to bump into someone called the Old Man of Wisdom, and so he does. The old man asks him something that he does not know which sounds to him like this "Do you know that being rich means living unhappily and in fear all the time?" The Putrid Pauper immediately thinks that the Old Man of Wisdom is really wise and starts to compliment and praise him. He even tries to kiss him. After awhile the Old Man of Wisdom says, " Why do you think that I am wise? Because I know things you know not of? Because I am old? Or because my name says that I am wise?" The Putrid Pauper says that it might be all the above and also because the name of the road is Wisdom, so naturally everyone he sees here must be wise to some extent. The Old Man of Wisdom says," I see you here." The Putrid Pauper hesitates for awhile and replies," I am just lost."

Have you ever witnessed a windless rain? It falls without a sigh, unlike men who fell during the Great wars, shedding tears instead of blood. Have you ever witnessed a windless rain? It dampens your joy, like ice during a cold rainy day- your mood in such as same a day. Have you ever witnessed a windless rain? It falls without a sigh, unlike men who fell during the Great wars, that took the dust and heat away.

It is just one of those days that I feel are meaningless; something that should not be since there are so many things around for me to do. However, I am glad that these days should come around once in awhile, because it is during these days, in particular today, that I suddenly think of you. The smiles that you have given me, but along the roads I want to thread I have forgotten them, are coming back to tease my memory, to fill it with the sweet smell of your afterbath fragrance that reminds me of dewberry and wishwood. I cannot attach a face to the smiles though. I long to touch you my lovely smiles. The tears I wish I can see flowing from your eyes again. Those mesmerizing eyes that remind me of a fool who cannot forgive. I wish, as many other lovers do, that I can turn back time to the place where you were still standing at back then. I missed you then, but I didn't realize the significance of missing you. I blamed it on you, so now you can blame me for only seeing your smiles.

Innocence is the beauty of a flower untouched and fresh from the sun with few drops of dew hanging from the leaves Innocence is the stillness of a rock the unnoticed nature of greyish composition with nothing but a dull complexion dreading its existence Innocence is the heart of human the pounding porcelain creation of God with nothing but the mind to tease and turn it into dust