For those who trouble themselves with solitude and have mourned for the pursuit of attachment, tell yourself to find a desk and a window. Scrawl the living on manuscripts, nourish your ill soul with the words you find diverse, interpret the questions you find your insomniac self to be dreading over. If you mourn for the light-hearted faith of company, peer outside your window. You will find a young woman strolling along the street and the sunlight will be glossing over her plush skin; she'll frown and look down upon her day. Until you envision a man strolling along with her and her face will lift upon the self-mumbled shades of sorrow, the light that shines upon her will cast a feign outline of hope. As you lay there upon your window sill as a tiresome being, looking outward, your eyes will turn to the public and glisten with the utmost remorse to live. Your merit will overpower you to live; your desk will seek heaven within you, and your window shall bring you to last in human harmony.
As your eyes peer outward to the sweet grass touching the sky. The sun that once glossed over the beautiful youth has come to set over hills and hills. Your body begins to wane, and you fall to the heavenly desk. You part away into lands beyond understanding. As you lay there below your window sill. Your troublesome hands ladle what's left of joy. You think about lorn dreams in vain and realize there'd been a beginning and end but no lasting heart.
YOU ARE READING
collection of poems and short stories
PoetryPoems and short stories that I've written throughout my study of literature and writing. Hopefully you'll be able to see the progression of my craft. References to literature and artist are spread throughout the prose.
