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Crazy

into_the_wild

Dreams are what you wake up from.

14 years of Livejournalling, and hopefully, more to come.


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Crazy
into_the_wild

(no subject)

:: 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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Action begets reaction.
Shall the window once closed, now open
Close again?

-hugs-

Nothing really matters.

The first time I encountered this poem in JC, it inspired many mental meanderings...mainly because I'd never actually experienced love then. Would this be how it felt like when a lover died? Could I bring myself to believe in a love that endured beyond the grave?

Perhaps experience has served to make my perception of love far more mundane than it used to be...and yet far more profound in many ways. Love isn't as mysterious as what drugged-up dreamers make it out to be. It's like the comfortable shoes you walk about all day in, the blanket that keeps you warm at night, the cup of hot tea that revives you in the morning. It's the wind in your sails, the fuel in your engine, the air soles in your Nike trainers. Over time, love's glittering thread is so closely woven into the fabric of our lives that we cease to notice it, but let that thread break or be yanked out, and our lives will forever be weaker and duller for the loss.

In this poem, love is made out to be something so sacred, so "refined" that even the lovers themselves cannot fully understand it. Oh please. That's why, these days, John Donne sounds like even more of a tiresome old bag to me than he used to, but that's just my humble opinion.

Funny how you say nothing really matters. My problem was always that EVERYTHING matters, and I don't have enough time to give it all the attention I would really like to.

hope u are okie.. hugz.. this poem sound so sad..

I am totally alright.
The funny thing about this entry is that, while it sounds and appears to be sad, it doesn't affect me.
For I've learnt to understand how it is integral to the journey of life.

With understanding and awareness (?) sadness is no longer sad.
Dunno if I make sense to you....


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