Sunset shadow and Sunrise smile envy each other. Our life is like an allegory of broken phrases incomplete and feeble but suits the "quiet desperation" we live with. Our hands are cuffed and we are forced to watch our dreams collide with destiny and bounce back to reality. Who knows what dreams we hold. It is important that we publish our stories and let the dense world know that our meagre personalities have the strength to withstand angry winds and colder nights. War is a by-product of human stupidity. The sound of an incoming missile can neither distort nor rubbish the music inside your soul. This may sound like a load of crap, but I take for granted that everything is a pile of crap.
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high - piled books, in charact'ry,
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And feel that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;—then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think,
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high - piled books, in charact'ry,
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And feel that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;—then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think,
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.
John Keats
This is poetry. Beautiful as I see.
This is poetry. Beautiful as I see.
