Winter and You
my hands are like ice
Winter has finally arrived
The cold hasn't reached my heart yet
and so I find myself thinking how
nice and warm you were.
In this stillness where nothing moves,
all I can see is a
teardrop climbing softly down your cheek.
And I try to convince myself
Tell myself that I don't want you
and I don't. I do not.
But winter puts an ache in my chest.
Winter makes me yearn.
and so inspite of myself I want you
Strange
strange to see desire emanating from a heart
that spites it's own self, scorns itself and continues
to shamelessly desire.
Even perhaps, to envy it's own desire.
Stranger still that the chaos is all mine
Mine Mine Mine.
If one could obliterate one's self then the chaos would disappear like a beautiful dream dissolves with the dissolving sun at dawn.
But then the sun just looks like it's dissolving, minutes later it's up there bright and blinding and showing you your way around as always. And so is the self.
So is the self.
If Winter was to say 'Spring is in my heart', who would believe Winter?
Gibran is beautiful.
I'm a lost cause though.
Winter has finally arrived
The cold hasn't reached my heart yet
and so I find myself thinking how
nice and warm you were.
In this stillness where nothing moves,
all I can see is a
teardrop climbing softly down your cheek.
And I try to convince myself
Tell myself that I don't want you
and I don't. I do not.
But winter puts an ache in my chest.
Winter makes me yearn.
and so inspite of myself I want you
Strange
strange to see desire emanating from a heart
that spites it's own self, scorns itself and continues
to shamelessly desire.
Even perhaps, to envy it's own desire.
Stranger still that the chaos is all mine
Mine Mine Mine.
If one could obliterate one's self then the chaos would disappear like a beautiful dream dissolves with the dissolving sun at dawn.
But then the sun just looks like it's dissolving, minutes later it's up there bright and blinding and showing you your way around as always. And so is the self.
So is the self.
If Winter was to say 'Spring is in my heart', who would believe Winter?
Gibran is beautiful.
I'm a lost cause though.
posted by Kronoskraor at 1:58 AM
5 Comments:
on a personal note, i cant seem to conect with the idea of loss and cold, but reading as an idea, yes, the poem talks to me about a lot that can actually be constructed to BE something, a feeling of lithost so to say, my personal knowledge of u colours my objectivity a bit but also helps me to grasp the brilliance and 'voidness' that one might feel, wen even the self itself ends up in the docket our your own prison......
as in litost can be constructed to be something??
hmm..where do you see implications of the existence of the void?I'm wondering cuz that conecpt wasn't even remotely in my head and im wondering now if on a subconscious level the void enters my work aise hi:(
read it again, love da line "a beautiful dream dissolves with the dissolving sun at dawn."
nice work verma, nd wrt voidness is da entire pathos that the words bring out in a way of self and control....
its beautiful
strange to see desire emanating from a heart
that spites it's own self, scorns itself and continues
to shamelessly desire.
this was beautiful
:)
@ashi: thanks:) my fav line,for some vague reason is 'winter makes me yearn'!!
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