"The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling, doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; and as imagination bodies forth the forms of things unknown, the poet's pen turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing a local habitation and a name."
-William Shakespeare

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Idols

The heart cries out, "Alone! Alone!
Don't leave me here to rot.
Give me but a sampling of beauty or a plot.
This boredom overcomes me while you turn your eyes away.
Give me now an idol so I starve no more today.
You say there's something better if I peacefully can wait,
But know I've waited far too long to trust what you call fate.
The timeline stretches endlessly and tries to justify
Its mere existence, feeding me with yet another lie."
Alas the heart knows nothing of the universe, it seems.
Instead, it thinks that it is owed for all that it has seen.

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