They talk of love. They talk of death. To him, both are the same. Not as a suggestion—more like Sansara—for transformation, moving to the next level, or dying to a younger, more uncertain idea bred in his youth. She burns incense; it moves on air, for their souls' craving rumination. They make love in youth.
- - -
It is only the dead that seem exempt from love.
Monday, November 21, 2005
they talk of love . . .
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7 comments:
A youth that lasts forever because it is woven into the golden web of eternity. wonderful! Sounds like a psalm or a something the merry players could perform with timeless gestures. Yea!
“They talk of love, they talk of death,” to her they are polar opposites. She thinks in terms of, to love is to breath, to not love is to die, and the end is still the same…. “It is only the dead that seem exempt from love.”
I love this, yours, I only threw mine in for lack of anything interesting to say in response, apart from adulation.
Xxx, Lori
This kind of thinking appeals to me. I like the last line. Accepting that we are all passionate souls frees us to love deeper.
uk--rain, Nag Champa is the best incense in existance. Period. YEP.
Nag Champa, that nose candy can change my entire attitude...ahhh.
What an ending line! Wow. Maybe the dead have it better than us. This is lovely, friend.
They talk of it, but I wonder what they say . . . are their words of old souls or of video games? Or are they dead and only talking and not feeling?
One day I'm going to want more . . .
I think you mean "Samsara", not "Sansara".
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