Life has carefully sapped the vigor from my imagination, leaving a lack like nothing you could ever experience. My blood still flows like rivers that know their channels, and my mind still wrings the logical progression from each moment, but the cosmic fusions that leaped like skydivers from my mind to the ground around me have vanished. This is what it is to be a forgotten river, or a liver, or a prisoner in a wide-open world where the weather changes forever. And the horrible thing is the survival of my memory, which reminds me of those former impulsive days.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
A Lament
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"This is what it is to be a forgotten river, or a liver, or a prisoner in a wide-open world where the weather changes forever."
ReplyDeleteThat's my favorite line. Nice flow :)