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|| Friday, April 01, 2005 || || 10:22 pm ||

The Secret Lives (Following 'The Secret')

Like as though slaved to the doors
That open to a dissatisfaction of touch
The transient joy that circulates an unreal
Imagination cannot be seen or even felt
By the stripped knowledge of clarity
A frozen ice melting the depths within the truth
Yet forsaking the goodness from the sweetened taste
The request of this secret fashions permanence without a doubt
The numbness concealed by the drab monochromed artwork
Promises that are no longer pregnant with their meaning
Importations of phony that created a florid style of a perfection
Despite the utter incredulity the lachrymose disposition faded
Prevarications that were purchased by the lingering smiles
The prosody wrapped in each line craves some form of thawing
Revelations under the blossomed could cause astonishment
Yet a rising feeling of compunction the slashing guilt
The reticence refusing to resuscitate the dead consciousness
Yet appalled at the fact of being alive and walking with lies
The willingness of gently removing what is beneath
There is no chances of reaching an impasse without
Because of the constant impetus to say yes
Imperceptible therefore usually forgotten and inhumed
Imparting it in which the secret will officially die

__________-HER-__________

 

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"Some people plant in the spring,
And leave in the summer.
If you're signed up for a season, see it through.
You don't have to stay forever,
but at least stay until you see it through."
~ Jim Rohn
 
From Priya's entry dated 6 November 2005- suits us perfectly.
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