by 0 members A meditation. In praise of the helpless, completely irrational, madness of love.
Quixote dreams wistfully and blindly for the tavern girl. She labors, blissfully unaware that whatever she is, however bad life gets, this one insane man sees only beauty, sees only the divinity of *she*.
He lives, he dies, only for the sight of her face.
Atlanta, GA
Infrequent Poetry to tell stories, express a feeling, hopefully to entertain or inspire. Cover: “ Memorial for Karl Liebknecht” by Käthe Kollwitz. Wes writes, he …
