The only images I remember are of glasses falling… cars whirling… blood dripping…
and then the visions stop- at that precise moment.
I never see them crashing, colliding or staining. I never see me dead, only dying.
About Me
- Ben
- "talking about oneself can also be a means to conceal oneself" (nietzsche). And as that wishful obscurity will be a mockery on this place, so i better refrain from concealing myself and say no more
5 comments:
wow
what a moment you've captured...
breathtaking...
just would like to read this poem again and again...
whirling
immersing
dying
in its beauty
in its truth...
namaste
dying
every moment
every day
every life
witnessing
nothing
but
a dream
"I came out alone on my way to my tryst.
But who is this that follows me in the silent dark?
I move aside to avoid his presence but I escape him not.
He makes the dust rise from the earth with his swagger;
he adds his loud voice to every word that I utter.
He is my own little self, my lord, he knows no shame;
but I am ashamed to come to thy door in his company."
cheerz! to the moments when we are holding our breath in suspense or in anticipation of a destruction...or a creation.
I agree with human, i did read it time and again, feeling the moment.
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