Comments | equidistant: Bitter Sweet

equidistant

Bitter Sweet

Jan 13, 2008 21:49

I feel like I have been going to my own funeral for a week. Everyone is so nice and saying the best things about me (thanks for lying to me:) but it's still very sad.
Sometimes I'm filled with so much sadness I feel like I will crumple to the ground and just refuse to get up again. But then I remember my Dad and I keep packing, or change my address ( Read more... )

Comments 3

randomposting January 14 2008, 06:40:43 UTC

I hope tomorrow is a better day for you.

Irish blessings for you... bluefenox January 14 2008, 07:24:02 UTC

buh bye :(

An Old Irish Blessing
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again...

May the blessing of the rain be on you-
the soft sweet rain.
May it fall upon your spirit
so that all the little flowers may spring up,
and shed their sweetness on the air.
May the blessing of the great rains be on you,
may they beat upon your spirit
and wash it fair and clean,
and leave there many a shining pool
where the blue of heaven shines,
and sometimes a star.

If God sends you down a stony path,
may he give you strong shoes.

burningsinners January 14 2008, 07:51:18 UTC

Ages fallen like and with the sands of its own shattered hourglass its strong winds finally allowing the spiraling free sands to settle in their entirety in bondage again finally by the soil below them. New seeds planted among the finally still grains of the time piece, which what was enslaved now unwittingly has enslaved all around it. A cycle complete, the forest with which just behind showering her with its warmth begging for her to stay. The most sorrowful part always seems to be the end forever kept in check by the beginning its hope and promises shining on this tragic severance from her haven its glow while calling her soul showing her path could not help but illuminate this moment of passing. The forest she had made her own was not always this warm, nurturing, and vast. Its cultivation had its prices in body sweat and even in her eternal soul; it had its droughts, and it had its floods. Their time had bonded them, and with that panoply each had nurtured the other in a state of symbiosis and grown. The link with it was ( ... )