The warmth of the shining star,
The calm of a mountain pond,
The sweet of the flowers belly,
and the fragrance of the morning dew,
With love in my bosom, my life,
is as beautiful, as it is new!
Love. Makes poets out of many and drunkards out of many many. :)
As much as I have read and seen, I can say this with authority that love generates more pain and agony than happiness and satisfaction. Period. But we can't stop loving can we?
Also it's actually strange that most people like remembering that pain and revelling in it. You don't poke the thorn back into your leg just to relive that pain and relish it, do you?
Yet, here we are, in a world where people love the failures in love....and the poetry that follows.
Many would argue that the poetry would never happen if not for the failure. Fair point. and also that the poetry gives an expression to the un-spoken feelings. Fair point again. But the poetry in love is far sweeter than out of it.
The calm of a mountain pond,
The sweet of the flowers belly,
and the fragrance of the morning dew,
With love in my bosom, my life,
is as beautiful, as it is new!
Love. Makes poets out of many and drunkards out of many many. :)
As much as I have read and seen, I can say this with authority that love generates more pain and agony than happiness and satisfaction. Period. But we can't stop loving can we?
Also it's actually strange that most people like remembering that pain and revelling in it. You don't poke the thorn back into your leg just to relive that pain and relish it, do you?
Yet, here we are, in a world where people love the failures in love....and the poetry that follows.
Many would argue that the poetry would never happen if not for the failure. Fair point. and also that the poetry gives an expression to the un-spoken feelings. Fair point again. But the poetry in love is far sweeter than out of it.
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