Once in a golden hour I cast to earth a seed. Up there came a flower, The people said, a weed. To and fro they went Thro' my garden bower, And muttering discontent Cursed me and my flower. Then it grew so tall It wore a crown of light, But thieves from o'er the wall Stole the seed by night. Sow'd it far and wide By every town and tower, Till all the people cried, "Splendid is the flower!" Read my little fable: He that runs may read. Most can raise the flowers now, For all have got the seed. And some are pretty enough, And some are poor indeed; And now again the people Call it but a weed.
Poetic Flower.
Saturday, October 31, 2009:
dejected rejection
Perpetual sorrow feels like a state of internalised suicide.
One must not give up but produce mental toughosity!! oh yeah!!!

ha!

yeah right...

In You, will i draw strength for i cannot continue based on my efforts alone.
If only i could release the well of tears kept hidden deep within. It would compliment the drought of our external environment, no? sigh

I do feel, however, that a slight crack might drown us all.
new series name: tsunami of tears..lol...
not funny...

Sadness does not enjoy company.
No..
sadness is my company.

modernidealist blogged on 01:00 pm

 

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