Seas of love
Entire
sea exhausted by silent views, sediment from calm fatigue in themselves, mute
thoughts from blunt feelings; yet plans within plans, plans to get nowhere very
fast. Ideals that serve as reminders of trimmed shadows standing before their
destroyer, forgotten beyond recognition by themselves, ambushed with lies,
discarded to nonexistence. Radicals, who aim to liberate people from
everything, even love itself.
And
at the bottom of that lost sea remains but a single drop, secretly defying
existence; a proof that, in some golden times, there used to be a vast infinite
sea. Drop created only from memories, wrapped in itself in an ideal sphere,
jealously wishing to preserve those identity boundaries, borders distinguishing
it from the nothingness that has surrounded it so strongly with pressure from
all sides... becoming a secret sea, a sea only for itself.
And
somewhere in the centre of its fragile making, there lies trapped substance of
women, fatal as they are; women… breaking everything into pieces putting all
back together again, just to break everything in pieces all over again. But that’s the least reason why
not to love!
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