accept restless pride
genly joining me
sense yields stubbornly
fleeting love beckon days away

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Eye of Newt

So last Saturday at dinner, I told a friend that "I never get sick; and I don't even need to knock on wood when I say that." Well, perhaps I should have done at least one knock - just to make sure. Yes, it's true: I'm sick. My eyes are on fire, my head going to burst, my joints ache a bit, and my skin feels considerably more sensitive than usual. It is in times like these that I question whether the superstitions of ages past - and even of the present - merit the skepticism that we give them. So I'm sick. And I don't think that Airborne really works. I think it's all whooey, actually. I've drunk that stuff like six times since yesterday, and I still feel just as bad, if not worse, than I usually feel during a cold. I would bet that all the extra vitamins just pass straight through the body and are disposed of. Now, if Airborne does nothing, then is one superstitious if he takes it and swears to its efficacy? Are we still in the dark ages where witc...
Read more

Genesis

It has finally come to the point that I deem it literally and metaphorically time to begin this little venture into the blogging world. For many weeks my mind has laboured heavily over my decision of what to write about. It had to be impressive, I thought, so as to attract the masses of the web. But blogs are many, and time is short. Not every voice can be heard by ma ny. Yet I begin in the face of daunting odds. It is to the subject of beginnings that my th oughts are appropriately drawn. Now for the metaphor. I think of the soil of the earth, from which emerges plants of infinite variety. The dust of space is routinely drawn together to form stars, solar systems, galaxies... Our minds take the chaos of life, the entropy of non-intelligence, and find meaning. What is this miracle that we behold? The miracle of intelligence, of order! Gradually, we take the chaos of life, and we arrange it in such a way that the chaos becomes creation. The universe moves and labors to destroy itself, t...
Read more

Dizzy and Blindfolded to Walking a Tightrope

I took a creative writing class in high school, in which we would daily have time to free-write. The theory was that moving the pen would spark creativity and give us something to write about, even if we were at a block. That's kind of what I'm doing here. What resulted were directionless babblings, sprinkled with flecks of creativity. Now that I think of it, why would anyone care to read my "free-write"? It is probably uninteresting so far. Answer: because it will likely be brilliant. Or not. This may just be a waste of time, but I'm in one of those moods that compells me to write, even though my thoughts haven't taken a definite form. I should be ecstatic for the sole reason that school is out, but I'm not exactly that. It seems like life is a tricky thing. It may be that we have more things to stress about than we can cope with, so we just pick a few at a time and are never short of supply of them; or there are multiple spickets that turn on and off, bu...
Read more