Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Rip Van Winkle Move Over!!

Hello world! Good Lord! Its been a long time since I once again visit these portals! Almost a year! Wow, that is a long ass time, especially on the net! But I vsit them anew, transformed. I am not the boy that was, but am ... someone who is one the path to becoming the man he will be. Old timers would read this sort of stuff and say, "Hah! Been there done that!", but for me the wonder of it all is searingly new, and the eventual realization of self will mould my future.

But then again, I cannot say that 'I' have a future. The 'I' that I was, is now part of a 'We'. Yes Ladies and Gents, I have found The one. The one person who would complete me, who would balance me, who would help me metamorphose into 'My' self; and I have found her. She made me realise actually how sad I was... Well lets not get into that. The bottom line is that she makes me happy, happier than I`ve ever been before. She doesn't need to conciously try to distract me, just a glance is enough! She`s beautiful, intelligent, witty, funny, whacky, nutty, kind, caring, loving, idealistic, fascinating(I can use a lot more adjectives here! Way too many to describe her!)ang out; everything! Its so crazy! Whatever I can concieve of doing, I want her to be there to experience it as well, and also to simply be there.

I love her. The Daughter of The Night, my pretty little lady...

Reflections On A Dying Age

Dawn brought with it a day beautiful and bright,
It calls me to revel in the light. Ah! Life, what a beautiful sight!
But I know that this is but a curtain, as black clods garner my brow.
I cannot see beauty, lost as I am in thoughts of despair and sorrow.

I know the course of life sometimes runs into troubled waters,
It's just not nice how troubles pile up when it most matters.
But there is no use in talking, the time is far past, now we sit and whine,
And we are to blame, in our world trouble is but too easy to find.

Dusk has set on the old ways, they are dying on cue.
'Tis only natural, times pass calling for the old to make way for the new.
And as the scythe-wielding, black-robed figure lays his bony hand on our shoulder,
I wonder, in the shadows of what comes, do the fires of chaos smoulder?

We are casting off all our life-lines, delibrately, one by one,
The blackness grows deeper, will we ever again live in the sun?
Forget the much desired utopia of philosopher`s ken,
We cannot achieve it, as we are now, given the nature of men.

'Lest we stop and look inside, to try and change ourselves,
We will be neatly stacked in a file, along with other failiures, on the backshelves.
It won't be easy, for us there will be no convenient end-all cure,
The truth is: what must, will endure.