Random Thoughts on Life
Image: Sukarov
Where does a flame go when it is blown out?
Where does life go when it is blown out?
One must need strength, otherwise one will never have it.
Why is there something, as opposed to nothing?
Life is but a dream.
Poetry is like a flower.
Don't hate me because I am beautiful.
I hate myself for all of my shortcomings, and all of the potentiality that remains JUST potential.
From under the crushing weight, we arise stronger
Like leavened, and kneaded dough
A gentle giant emerging.
Or, maybe not.
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