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poem1

  • 12th May, 2007 at 7:55 PM
glamour, Marylin Monroe, sad introverted, quiet, alone
What is love? If not a glorious delusion?
As vivid as a hallucination; ethereal and ephemeral,
to examine it, scrutinize it dissect, trap or change it,
as fruitful as grasping at vapours,
fading, a half forgotton dream,
lost in the glare of the cold light.



Discuss.

Comments

( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
[info]lapchan wrote:
13th May, 2007 08:38 (UTC)
Music: Christian - "hi i'm chrisian"+ kitchen noise.

That great.
[info]chi_ryu wrote:
13th May, 2007 11:23 (UTC)
Agreed :]

But I'm not sure it is futile to examine or scrutinise love, tbh. Surely it is still an emotion like many others we have and are able to consider...?
[info]tinseltips wrote:
14th May, 2007 09:31 (UTC)
I think if you question it to much you can think yourself out of it, and become so preoccupied with examining it that you can't allow yourself to just be swept up in it...
[info]lapchan wrote:
14th May, 2007 16:28 (UTC)
I would agree. There are no satisfactory conclusions to it when you over analyse and you become cynical and whatnot.

It's good to question it though, sometimes. Like anything. It's something that I think makes us different from other creatures on this Earth.
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )

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