The endless desire of the human heart to break.
----Freud.
Love is a series of scars. No heart is as whole as a broken heart.
---Rabbi Nahman.
Time passes. Listen. Time passes.
Black it is. Sweet it is. I am nothing without it. I am nothing with it. If only I could find a name..but there's no place for the way I feel.
So, here we are, estranged from ourselves and from others; and yet perfectly reconciled! Our very conformity is a sign of our alienation.
Why so downcast, my soul?
Why do you sigh within ?
What use in saying this isn't the way it was meant to be? This is the way it was meant to be. Always, yes, perhaps always, we were never meant to fit. The world is the world..a blind godhead. But this much is true: everything here reminds us of something else; every reality is a shadow, every life lived a dim reflection of the lives we have missed out. Not the deathless realm for us.
In our knowledge of death we are superior to God.
All this fading, soaring, beautiful or useless, bitter or sweet. What else is there to say? You do not want to be named, and turn your face. Fair enough. I, too, will hope that
I will run, run
and never find.
3 comments:
Enchantée:)
Astarte.
Lovely song. 'Don't spread the discontent...' Just what I needed to hear.
"I will run, run
and never find"
Reminded me of a poem by Langston Hughes
When you turn the comer
And you run into yourself
Then you know that you have turned
All the corners that are left.
Well, well, ..glad you dropped in kiddo :)
When we run into ourselves..that's when we start to cut corners, no?
Have put a strawberry ice-cream in the fridge for you. Don't know if it will last :)
Anyway, thanks for the comments, hope all is well (you too, astarte)
b.
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