Wildy the Journeyman (into_the_wild) wrote,
Wildy the Journeyman
into_the_wild

:: Quick Quips ::

I think the world is deliberately turned into a huge gordian knot
From our lack of directions;
For we are mere mortals, and we do not know what we seek.

......

The pendulum swings yet again;
Action begets reaction.
Shall the window once closed, now open
Close again?

......

Lately Donne's poem came back to haunt me;
like the incessent droning of a new pop hit (say, Milkshake?).
It perpetuates.

terminalcase42, remember this?

A VALEDICTION FORBIDDING MOURNING
by John Donne

AS virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
"Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."

So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;
'Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.

Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ;
Men reckon what it did, and meant ;
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers' love
—Whose soul is sense—cannot admit
Of absence, 'cause it doth remove
The thing which elemented it.

But we by a love so much refined,
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assurèd of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.

Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th' other do.

And though it in the centre sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.

Beautifully Poignant.

......

Afternote:
We ask for wings but yet we know not why we need to fly.
Do we need to fly?
Do we need wings then?

We ask for happiness but know not how to recognise the conditions for it.
Are we then sure we do not have happiness?
Is happiness shoved deep into the drawer, forgotten?
Or is happiness playing hide-and-seek?
Did we initiate the game and then forgot all about it?

We ask for peace and then long for excitement. What comes first?
Hmm... nothing? Cos it's all relative, and one loses it's lustre without the dullness of the other.
And so the human enigma wavers on.

The answer is that there is no answer.
Nothing really matters.


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