I have realized that words, the only evidence of the existence of meanings are the most gorgeously wrecked example of meaningless.
The Damned Poetry
They say, “Butterflies are proof that you can ride the carousel of darkness yet still walk out into something beautiful.” But I was reluctant to agree.
You live inside the phenomenon that Newton was never able to discover.
You remind me of the sea routes that Vasco da Gama wanted to discover before malaria choked him.
You are a reminiscence of the artworks set ablaze by Nazis because Hitler hated the maddening passion and aflame ambition of Vincent Van Gogh.
You don’t hear the magical murmurings of the ocean until you leave the shore. So, when you’re with her, skip the small talk
Tell her what the word ‘home’ means to you. Is it your mother’s lap that smells of apples and cinnamon. Is it somewhere amidst the mountain pines where Orion, the Hunter shimmers with pride? Continue reading “Skip the Small Talk: A Snippet”