Carried to a,
To a empty door.
Empty walls, ceiling, floor,
To occupy with,
Empty objects and activites.
Empty digression is next,
Empty outlook following that.
This is a sequence to create an,
With this emptiness there is,
The indistinct, ultimately ambiguous moments, like that of the whisper in Lost In Translation, intrigue me the most in this life.
It is saddening to not love something as much as you once did while still knowing it is worth loving. I feel this way about Sigur Ros.
Anonymous said: Your a sexy being familiar with nature in your way.
well, la dee da
Hmmm… (scratches head)…
Of the volcano I walk on ending coals that may be met with a new enduring pain which is that of snow.
Blades of grass slipped through my toes and never was known the ignorant footing that steps and does not know how sweet and free is the grassy knoll.
A wanderlust living breathes into the soul what the illusions of wandering above with no footing withholds. But only if felt and observed with the same gentle caress of which that grows finds equal and mutually respects.