It's that time of night... roughly around 8.10 PM. It's quiet, except for the distant hum of the traffic outside. I take a deep breath, and it isn't recycled from my brother's wasted outbursts, or anybody else's concerned nagging fears. It's liberating to know there's a place - and time - nobody else knows about; I feel the breeze from the fan pass conspiratorially around me. I recall the last time I was in this place - vaguely sheepish at all of the youthful insecurities, the little bundle of follies that I was. Not that I'm not, right now... just that I won't be finding out for awhile. I like the quiet. Where all you ever encounter is buzzing, flitting, energetic flashes, a little quiet becomes more than absence of - it becomes presence.
And presence becomes inspiration.
At last, he smiles at skull and bone
at sword, and spear and staff
for they, which claim from most but one
claim from him only half.
- Adam
3 comments:
Oh Gosh little boy, since when have you become so deep? :D Haha... I like poems. Did you write that one yourself? Haha... I highly doubt it though! hmmm... here's something in return!
A darkened soul was he that boy
For never did he share
The burdens of the life he lived
And such was his despair
WHEEEEeeeEEE... short and sweet... easy to understand oso!
corned beef
Excellent, love it! » »
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