This poem is just what I could have used instead of words : PB Shelley's "To"
One word is too often profaned
For me to profane it;
One feeling too falsely disdained
For thee to disdain it;
One hope is too like despair
For prudence to smother;
And pity from thee more dear
Than that from another.
I can give not what men call love;
But wilt thou accept not
The worship the heart lifts above
And the heavens reject not, --
The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the night for the morrow,
The devotion to something afar
From the sphere of our sorrow?
4 comments:
how easy could be to write down the feeling,
how easy could be if you could play with words,
how easy it would be to you to communicate,
How I felt you how i missed you how i love you...
For its not the pain and devotion,
For it shall sound like bells of the ocean,
Sound of despair with or sound of caution,
Something tells me that love is a notion...
For you need heart to understand such feelings,
For you need to live to be called human being,,
For i lived my lifetime understanding this fact,
Cause if there is life there is death. :)
well condition was too high before writing such ruthless poem.....would prmoise to stay away from accepting the fact and would remain in between reality and wishes...and would surely get lost...amiago
Thank You for getting lost. :)
Love!! ... get lost. Welcome back Baby :)
Post a Comment