09-14-2013, 11:33 PM
We plan parties to sneak into each other’s minds,
To feel, to see, to breathe human flesh.
They say one’s soul is dead,
That he/she is incomplete.
Intellectual pursuits keep life oh-so-interesting,
But do such pursuits take second place to the affairs of the heart?
They say her/his life was superficial, oh yes, annoying chatterboxes,
Or were they looking at themselves in a mirror?
She/he longed for the interconnectedness of life,
Taking in the joys of beautiful moments,
Breathing in the scent of red and white roses.
But, most of all, she/he longed to make someone their own,
To complete their soul.
What is a rich life compared to
Solitary confinements of lonely artists’ minds?
No, I dare not say so,
Not the clothes or the petty stuff we purchase to satisfy our desires.
But, like a tree, a rich life is rooted to all and makes all one.
To feel, to see, to breathe human flesh.
They say one’s soul is dead,
That he/she is incomplete.
Intellectual pursuits keep life oh-so-interesting,
But do such pursuits take second place to the affairs of the heart?
They say her/his life was superficial, oh yes, annoying chatterboxes,
Or were they looking at themselves in a mirror?
She/he longed for the interconnectedness of life,
Taking in the joys of beautiful moments,
Breathing in the scent of red and white roses.
But, most of all, she/he longed to make someone their own,
To complete their soul.
What is a rich life compared to
Solitary confinements of lonely artists’ minds?
No, I dare not say so,
Not the clothes or the petty stuff we purchase to satisfy our desires.
But, like a tree, a rich life is rooted to all and makes all one.