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figliaperduta
Angsty Sirius Poetry, for Your Displeasure
Mar 26, 2006 22:12
Buried in the Sea
By
figliaperduta
Shall I bury myself in the sea (
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Comments 3
angstier, lots of credit to anyone coming up with a good interpretation :P
ehttahw
March 27 2006, 15:21:55 UTC
Out between the end of lines,
leaning over the heavenly thread,
tantilized by a white wash life,
thick and full in the yonder cool.
How the mass sweeps helplessly,
with furvor against an endlessness,
movement resonant of some regard,
perhaps a fleeting memory.
To join the mass and lose myself,
to gain its purpose in lack thereof,
what might be found beyond the gloss,
much more than here what lies atop.
A pin prick on the carapace,
one thrust that digs a point through deep,
a rhapsody in chord is struck,
one path shattered from gravity.
The die is lost, a loss for sure,
for who now lingers along the crease,
a plea like rats in terminal line,
not a child shall answer that cry.
So comes the time,
the thread is crossed,
sailing through to magnificant blue,
only Time stops briefly to watch.
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Re: angstier, lots of credit to anyone coming up with a good interpretation :P
figliaperduta
March 27 2006, 16:51:50 UTC
SHINY.
I like that.
Where have you been?
Reply
Re: angstier, lots of credit to anyone coming up with a good interpretation :P
ehttahw
April 12 2006, 14:29:21 UTC
i don't always have internet these days and i'm in and out for several days at a time. still on aim whenever i am on the internet.
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Comments 3
leaning over the heavenly thread,
tantilized by a white wash life,
thick and full in the yonder cool.
How the mass sweeps helplessly,
with furvor against an endlessness,
movement resonant of some regard,
perhaps a fleeting memory.
To join the mass and lose myself,
to gain its purpose in lack thereof,
what might be found beyond the gloss,
much more than here what lies atop.
A pin prick on the carapace,
one thrust that digs a point through deep,
a rhapsody in chord is struck,
one path shattered from gravity.
The die is lost, a loss for sure,
for who now lingers along the crease,
a plea like rats in terminal line,
not a child shall answer that cry.
So comes the time,
the thread is crossed,
sailing through to magnificant blue,
only Time stops briefly to watch.
Reply
I like that.
Where have you been?
Reply
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