Mild Is The Parting Year

Mild is the parting year and sweet
The odour of the falling spray;
Life passes on more rudely fleet,
And balmless is its closing day.

I wait its close, I court its gloom,
But mourn that never must there fall;
Or on my breast or on my tomb
The tear that would have soothed it all.

By Walter Savage Landor



Random Thoughts

I'm torn by the desire to be near her, the place I wanna go, but I can't and I am here, where I am banished. My poor soul, it's desires burnt at the altar of time. It’s existence merely a mirage of a picture dolphin always wanted to paint. He once imagined it to be as colourful as the rainbow on a rain drenched Picasso; the lines, opaque, figures washed away blurring the boundaries.

My dear god, just forget about me, just look after her. I’ll still dwell here, after the end of time, like the dust and the ash ready to be picked up by the next wind.
I try to watch the sunset everyday and there are days when I wish I wouldn't wake up the next morning.Sometimes I look at the sunset, your beautiful creation and want to savour it as your parting gift to this life which you have bestowed on me.



Wednesday: Early morning/Home/Thinking

Life has a beginning and an end. Sometimes it is difficult where to start and end . I believe time has long hands and you never have an inclination when it’s gonna catch-up and strangle you with its abandon joy or crush you with pinching pain and agony.