You do something to me - Paul Weller
Once, when we were young, we could see each other without feeling ashamed. And so it shall be in the last days. But in the time in-between, the mean-time, all you can do is plot how to kill me, with an image, a few words...those murderous thoughts, sickly sweet to you.
I look over my shoulder to see you, a pace behind, enter my shadow, taking root. As close as a whisper now, the time between a heart beat. The hunter becomes the hunted. The princess smiles, the prince weeps.
Childhood has passed now. Let us not give a second thought to it. The autumn breeze rustles through the burnt-out leaves. Goodness has exhausted itself. And we cannot stay here any more. Already, there is a premonition of spring. Glaciers and hearts will melt. But this second thought fills me with dread. For it was on a day like this that Ymir was slain.
4 comments:
"When a man is just born, he is weak and flexible, when he dies, he is hard and insensitive.
When a tree is growing, it's tender and pliant, but when it's dry and hard, it dies.
Hardness and strength are death's companions.
Pliancy and weakness are expressions of the freshness of being.
Because what has hardened will never win."
hi k :-)
i love this image of the beloved entering his shadow, taking root.
(okok i know you will say it is not the beloved but God or whatever :-)
(hi n)
hello, n.
Yes, death's companions.. I like that..a lot.
Perhaps the beloved shadows the lover; a shadow stepping into another shadow. And she aims to kill. To stop time, find the still point of his heart.
anyways...thanks for dropping by both of you. Blogging is becoming increasingly irritating to be honest, though.
best wishes,
b.
why
i hope you don't get those dark thoughts of closing down again
(i'll come after you and you will see that not only the shadow of the beloved aims to kill :-P)
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