“If I could stay, then the night would give me up”—U2
There is a place and time that lingers like mildew on a wet stone. This longing is so steep that it reaches the point of angst and revolution, while the caverns of my heart attempts to explode in a myriad of dead stars. Dead stars, dead stars they come at night when the moon roars like lions in the desert.
If Einstein was true to his great mind, then maybe then, my soul would rejoice in a thousand nights of songs and dances. If time stops and regresses, to move backward and backward until time becomes my freedom instead of my prison, then my heart would be aglow with a thousand firelights that I shall set fire in the night’s sky. There is the fire that burns without reprieve, it is the Eternal Flame, and it burns in me like nothing else. One day, I shall set free this passion inside, this smoldering desire, that would carry me through the moon and back, like the man in the moon of my past dreams that took me in a swirling magical trip, across the ocean and towards the setting sun in the horizon. But whence that day comes, is the one ultimate question that leaves me gasping for breath.
Her eyes like diamonds and her face like a blossom of heavenly pearls---such lilies in the field. Such lilies in the field.
Fate is such a goddess and man lays naked upon her knees. I have retreated from her cruel hands and yet I find no door that will lead me away from this deadly longing. There are tears that roam like rivers and rivers of blood and yet, the hands of mercy stand farthest like a stone unmoved even by the universal forces that rule and bind us. For once then, she had become my sun, my moon and my comets and meteors; but now she is just a quasar, infinitesimal and so very far, far away that my eyes could not see her even by aid of the most gigantic of all telescopes.
There is a place and time that lingers like mildew on a wet stone. This longing is so steep that it reaches the point of angst and revolution, while the caverns of my heart attempts to explode in a myriad of dead stars. Dead stars, dead stars they come at night when the moon roars like lions in the desert.
If Einstein was true to his great mind, then maybe then, my soul would rejoice in a thousand nights of songs and dances. If time stops and regresses, to move backward and backward until time becomes my freedom instead of my prison, then my heart would be aglow with a thousand firelights that I shall set fire in the night’s sky. There is the fire that burns without reprieve, it is the Eternal Flame, and it burns in me like nothing else. One day, I shall set free this passion inside, this smoldering desire, that would carry me through the moon and back, like the man in the moon of my past dreams that took me in a swirling magical trip, across the ocean and towards the setting sun in the horizon. But whence that day comes, is the one ultimate question that leaves me gasping for breath.
Her eyes like diamonds and her face like a blossom of heavenly pearls---such lilies in the field. Such lilies in the field.
Fate is such a goddess and man lays naked upon her knees. I have retreated from her cruel hands and yet I find no door that will lead me away from this deadly longing. There are tears that roam like rivers and rivers of blood and yet, the hands of mercy stand farthest like a stone unmoved even by the universal forces that rule and bind us. For once then, she had become my sun, my moon and my comets and meteors; but now she is just a quasar, infinitesimal and so very far, far away that my eyes could not see her even by aid of the most gigantic of all telescopes.
No comments:
Post a Comment