Vivir sin sentir sería un sinsentido.

Vivir sin sentir sería un sinsentido.
The flower that blooms last is the most rare and beautiful of all.

Saturday 4 October 2014

San(ct)ity.

Long ago, at a time when my senses thought themselves to be cryptic, and words comprised mere ripples on blank oceanic vastness, a lullaby concealed my soul. A lullaby so full, and yet so empty. A crooning anthem which freckled me with dauntless expectations and shielded my fluttering sinless core. 

It hummed - 
"Seek to be different,
Worship the strange,
Nourish foundations,
For positive change."

What it meant, I never knew for certain. But, in a sphinxlike manner, it goaded me with that one silvery raindrop of radiance I still yearn for when paths turn scabrous, when strolling becomes too arduous, and the golden halation of dreams elatedly pulls out of reach. 

Fairies, they claim, are nothing but imaginary beings. Apocryphal, almost quixotic, irrelevant creatures. 





Hence the reason I believe in them. 

Addah Monoceros.

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