| Friday, June 12, 2009
| Gentle anguish in Infatuation
|They say it's the color of fall,
Of overhead burn and sprawl,
The human entity sublimes,
In supposed dearth and cries.
What is prevalent is irrelevant,
What is relevant is indeterminant.
The grey of the sky drops in dismay,
With sad thoughts of an enjoyable may.
In passion and obsession we overlook,
What could have been true and mistook.
Thus treading on a mirthful path,
Bombarded by unsteady deceptive craft.
Today, the world seems to hail,
A loving, broody thought prevails,
About a destiny seemingly unveiled,
Forging to keep distraught,
One does never own in thought,
Let's fail to see the past,
And move along at last.........
|posted by bereaved vendetta @ 12:04 AM