Life's Little Lamentation

If I could find a reason for being, I see only temptations, At first glance, and two minutes later, My eyes sent dilemmas For my reflection clings to that old crest even if I hear your dreams and speak to your mirror. No cities far enough for me to hide, But, at least my thoughts sleep as my body endures loneliness of Pride, I notice not with my eyes, But yours I remember as it was The beauty that is not yours Given only a name that may not be read. Then, I realise there were truth in being and if questions were unanswered, so long as I seek your face in darkness We may yet encounter your faith to again erase the blank pages and fill them with days.

To live and die at the same time, means much to the soul and the mind as the overbearing myth of ascension takes over from within, you'll see for yourself the wisdom that stifles the truth. To live and die at the same time, means much to the deaf and the blind crescendoing collapse of the sex of insanity wild straws and bamboo shoots, you'll see for yourself the folly that ignites the passion. It is not (though easy it may yet seem) to live and die at the same time, but if I could search forever for a moment or fill a million jars with memorie it would be to live and die with you ( purgatorial? ) and finally proclaim, eius est usque ad coelum et ad inferos

Angel of Serenity, Long have you been gone, teach me that which have been lost to me. I can no longer feel your presence. Angel of Serenity, Try - grant me solace with your wings, even when you'd flown you'd always and given that which cannot be had. So tell me, Why is it hard to forget that angelic smile, through tears I fought away silhouettes and yet, nothing could cheer my weary soul. Angel of Serenity, with whom I dare not hope, now you've taken even the memories and if I were to move from here teach me how.

How many times do you write of disappointments? How oft'n that would be, that you'd be stung by careless words uttered carefully, but without care How many times do you write of them? How oft'n that would be, that you'd find your shoelaces untied laced with annoyance, but without malice How many times do you write of someone? How oft'n that would be, that you'd think only of her very vividly, but without requite How many times do you write of disappointments? How oft'n that would be, that you'd sing of her in silence sometimes loudly, but without sound.

Who rival the eye of a star in a whirlpool of madness? when in emptiness i turn to thee Who tug at the heart-stone of infinity? and count the threads of my broken heart Mend it;- and now it seems like new but, Who decides if Every Moment I Love You? and yet i still craze the un-forgiven past and find my self lost again.

a dandelion dances alone, a lone dandelion's dance, a dainty search, a lion's heart melts