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Mass astray is within the realm;
Deep inside a complex helm.
Does thy think what thou said ist true?
A subtle wind of construe.
Thou words are mixed of different emotions;
For thy only wants the best, thy could bestow.
I love you more than anyone I have ever met. I want to show you for the rest of my life. I will try for you, and I will only show love to you.
Alex Sep 16
Falling in darkness...
Arms out for help...the void extends its hand
Sadness and despair embraces me...
A blindness overtakes me...
For now I see the truth
The once fading light of a candle was the creator
The smoke that rose once gone...his ghost
For it fades into nothing...
Nothing from which it came from and which it returns...

In measurement of time man is a grain of sand in an hourglass as big as the universe itself. Every moment captured in memory makes that hourglass fill...Every failure...every triumph is another gain that time it will be covered by time we shall all be forgotten....Can you tell me what moment in time did the first gain fall? What moment will be the last? Who will tilt the glass in the end?
Every time i listen to Samuel Barber - Agnus Dei I feel the highs and lows of every moment I have ever lived. I have never truly been a religious man but if I was to ever believe in a higher being it be that which let man create music such as this.
Meow, Meow, Meow, Meow.
Meow, Meow.
Meow, Meow, Meow!

Meow, Meow, Meow, Meow.
Meow, Meow.
Meow, Meow, Meow!

Meow, Meow, Meow, Meow.
Meow, Meow.
Meow, Meow!
Meow, Meow!
Try to find rhythm...
I listen classical musics. its help to relax my epiphysis.
Chris Saitta May 1
The desert is a hummingbird
With wings of hovering heat.
Weightless idler,
Forever in love with the acanthus leaf
And the nectar of the far Aegean.
I love that love of marines
They kiss, and then they go
They won't take their promises
But either will come home

In every port, there's a sad lady
But they kissed, and now they're gone
Some night , as everyother
They'll kiss the waves to forget shore
Partial Translation of Pablo Neruda's farewell from Spanish language
Jules AA Apr 4
Suns will set and rise again,
but Chytherea hasn’t kept her promise, yet.
You should be my own Cerinthus, I think,
a font to passions, and to sorrowful cares.
A flickering flame robbing me of my senses.
I count the minutes between a fresh glance,
or hearing the harmony of your voice.
Days you are absent feel hollow,
like a flower drooping, crushed by the plow
At the end of a field.
O Venus, when will you sing of my fortunes?
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