My Song of Love

This, my song of love, is my song of hate for the silent clock.

Are you wasting your time? Are you taking advantage of those around you?
Are you missing out?

Every moment is significant, every act a choice. Every instant infinitesimally different from every other moment. Every moment, one year, three decades, a lifetime, is a lifetime, where past and future coexist equally — irreconcilable as the present and the past.

You may not be able to change anything or anyone. However, with powerful and frightening power of your own self-awareness, you can change your attitude to life and make positive, productive changes to your life. The choice is yours to make.

They were dreaming of a blue sky, they were dreaming of a blue sky.

The air where I stood Is Harsh. It is nothing. The past that was in the air, the dead flowers, the bird’s innocent mind, the strange insects, has nothing to do with Me, I am not the soul in the air, I am something else, something else.

The swallow does not see me, I am simply a phenomenon.

Nothing. Brown skin, empty, cracked.

Love is the tragedy of this world, it is a curiouser power, a certain power, and from it comes, quite rare in the world. Though we have seen it enough to know, it comes as a seed of great suffering, it comes, sometimes, as a pheromone, an Eros, as an alchemy, a beautiful fragrance, as a Scarlet streak of the mind, from it comes, when I gaze at the leaves, seeds of despair and ecstasy.

The bones of the world are as the bones of Madonna. A nun is taller than a zebra. On a parochial level, we see, for a moment, the bones of the woman ~ our housekeeper who died of an illness. A wise mother sees the woman to whom her daughter speaks in sleep.

The answer is God and the monster who is and who has been but never will be is the master of our Soul.

A key within the locked palace of our Souls.

:: 09.29.2022 ::