d34th
The days are getting shorter once more. Slowly, the light will fade and darkness will once again conquer the northern hemisphere. I've experienced this several times now, 17 to be exact, although only three or four of these occasions have been after my leaving the shell of childhood. The prison of childhood.
Ah to be a child once more, it seems life would be so much richer if one was allowed to experience it once more. [fuck yeah]
And as the sun slowly retreats, it envies the night. It envies the moon and the stars. But at least, it will find comfort in the fact that it will again seize control of the sky within a year. It is immortal, although living in cycles.
A man does not live in cycles. A man is born to die, and death is final. A man is created through the most miraculous of molecular coincidences (initially) and flung into this world of constants. Thrown into a world of immortals.
A child- A man- An elder - Earth
Only the latter stages of our lives may appreciate the early. Only as memories may we enjoy our childhoods. We look back, and we MAKE it real. But alas, the reality is Now, and it will always be.
A man realizes his own mortality.
He knows that he will die.
He figures that one should enjoy as much as possible during the little time we have. He will soon realize what a hell this knowledge of death is. He won't be able to laugh, only cry. Cry for lost ambitions. Cry for dreams never fulfilled. CRY BECAUSE HIS FELLOW MEN ENJOY THEMSELVES. THEY FEEL AND THEY LAUGH. The man sighs when presented with the most wonderful of lights. What's the use, he says, it will all come to an end, anyway.
We will all die.
A child does not know of death, nor does the rock. The man wishes to be the child. "Oh to be a child once more, a life devoid of troubles and misery"
A life devoid of intellect.
"WHY CAN'T WE BE LIKE THE SUN?"
It comes and it goes. It is born and it dies. It lives in cycles.
So do we.
But you know what, the sun will die as well.
It is all to be seen from a perspective
Meanwhile, a beautiful little mayfly flies from flower to flower, dreaming of immortal life
Oh, to be human, it cries. Oh to be immortal.
Poemifiable, anyone?
Ah to be a child once more, it seems life would be so much richer if one was allowed to experience it once more. [fuck yeah]
And as the sun slowly retreats, it envies the night. It envies the moon and the stars. But at least, it will find comfort in the fact that it will again seize control of the sky within a year. It is immortal, although living in cycles.
A man does not live in cycles. A man is born to die, and death is final. A man is created through the most miraculous of molecular coincidences (initially) and flung into this world of constants. Thrown into a world of immortals.
A child- A man- An elder - Earth
Only the latter stages of our lives may appreciate the early. Only as memories may we enjoy our childhoods. We look back, and we MAKE it real. But alas, the reality is Now, and it will always be.
A man realizes his own mortality.
He knows that he will die.
He figures that one should enjoy as much as possible during the little time we have. He will soon realize what a hell this knowledge of death is. He won't be able to laugh, only cry. Cry for lost ambitions. Cry for dreams never fulfilled. CRY BECAUSE HIS FELLOW MEN ENJOY THEMSELVES. THEY FEEL AND THEY LAUGH. The man sighs when presented with the most wonderful of lights. What's the use, he says, it will all come to an end, anyway.
We will all die.
A child does not know of death, nor does the rock. The man wishes to be the child. "Oh to be a child once more, a life devoid of troubles and misery"
A life devoid of intellect.
"WHY CAN'T WE BE LIKE THE SUN?"
It comes and it goes. It is born and it dies. It lives in cycles.
So do we.
But you know what, the sun will die as well.
It is all to be seen from a perspective
Meanwhile, a beautiful little mayfly flies from flower to flower, dreaming of immortal life
Oh, to be human, it cries. Oh to be immortal.
Poemifiable, anyone?
Kommentarer
Postat av: Wave
Actually not that bad of an idea. A progression of lifetimes, each seemly eternal to the next in comparison, each wishing for the other. You should write this poem, c'est pretty awesome; beautiful, sad and introspective at the same time. Remember the rule of three: Whenever you have three good, separate adjectives that you can describe your idea with, you have to go through with it. :D
Get rolling with it!
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