Skip to main content

Sound X: I’ll tell you the story of your soul







I’ll tell you the story of your soul,
Mysterious, tantalized by the beauty and love of life
From the abyss of life above the firmament,
Life comes alive in you.

     Keats loved ‘her’ to ruin him,
But I love her to live me lively-
Love her is to live in her,
Live in her is to die in her and
She’s miles away,
Far across the mountains and waters,
Living her vivacity unto the zenith of life,
She makes me live.

I love myself despite how imperfect I am.
I can't help but fall in love with myself over and over again.
I sound like a self-obsessed idiot.
Like Narcissus loved himself, I love myself,
Both my body and soul and celebrate it.
     There must be something left incomplete
And I do love it.

Comments

  1. "Now I know..." A whisper that lingered on her lips..
    - Dewdrop

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. And he asked the expansion for her “Now I know….”
      He told me other things too; he went to the hills and cried out his love for her. “It echoed her name all around the valley and from where it ascended to the heavens,” he said.
      From the tops of mountains, he sang his love for her, for heavens might hear that. He loves her like he loves himself. If someone fails to himself first, how can he love someone else?
      He tore a piece from the poem “Red, Red, Rose” for her:
      “Oh my luve’s like a red, red, rose,
      That’s newly sprung in june;
      Oh my luve’s like the melodie
      That’s sweetly played in tune.”
      - And the sprout of a Dewdrop was peeping the sun for blossom.

      Delete
  2. You're so awesome! I don't believe I have read a single thing like this
    before. So wonderful to find another person with a few
    genuine thoughts on this topic. Really.. thanks for starting
    this up. This web site is one thing that is required on the
    internet, someone with some originality!

    my web-site ... CT limo

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. thank you very much my dear friend! your words are inspiring and it muses me to write again. thank you for reading my blog.. it is my pleasure to know there are people reading my blog! your words made my day!!!!!

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Dead and Buried

We all leave something behind—not by accident, but for a reason we don’t fully understand. As though some cosmic law silently demands it of us. And we obey, unknowingly, yet unfailingly. We, fragile creatures, live not just to exist, but to leave traces of that existence—marks etched in time, invisible perhaps, but undeniably real. We come into this world incomplete, having left a piece of ourselves elsewhere. When we first take the shape of a foetus in the womb, something essential is set aside. And when we die, we don’t simply vanish; we begin a journey back—to retrieve what was once ours, what we unknowingly surrendered. But even in that act of return, we leave more behind. Our lives are full of quiet departures. A moment. A glance. A word. Our love lingers. Our memories settle into the corners of rooms. Our shadows remain stretched across places we’ve passed through. Our presence clings to people in subtle, haunting ways. Sometimes we leave behind dreams never fulfilled, words nev...

Wake me up...

Wake me up when December bells. until then, let me sleep in thy... 

Unknowing

I choose the heart of darkness — not in despair, but in reverence — to immerse myself in its monstrous chaos, the womb from which all beginnings bleed into existence. I do not flee the shadows; I invite them. I slow the light, restrain it, keep it from intruding too close—because some truths are born only where light hesitates.  I sense what is coming. The slow unravelling of the world. A moment when day and night lose their boundaries and collapse into a single breath. When direction dissolves and humanity forgets where it stands. Time loosens its grip. Space forgets its shape.  In that hour, man will begin to speak languages he has never learned, utter sounds older than memory itself. He will see beyond the limits of his eyes, hear frequencies never meant for human ears. Perception will stretch, fracture, expand—until meaning itself trembles.  And in that unsettling clarity, where fear and wonder merge, the truth will no longer hide. It will rise—not in light, but in t...