From the abyss of the uncultivated she arose
To embezel the throne of myst and flair,
Holding on to the coins of merry
Unto the pity minds of the golden Æschere.
Just how much can the peak of hypocrisy tolerate? Had human brain been a readable book, I guess being dirty, pervert, dishonest, evil, etc would have had a different meaning altogether. And that telepathy is still not sold at the Radioshack, should give us all a tinge relief.
Today, I came across this on my apartment staircase. I have nothing much to say about this.
It was a mid-day morn
A man on terrace
With few drapes worn,
Just out of bath
To repeat those prayers
With folded arms he was standing,
Facing the Sun
He was praying.
What could be seen
Was him and the star
An invisible beam joining.