Like a Vesperian night,
shrouded in indigo and crimson,
the city's dark beauty seeps into my pores,
a madonna of mayhem,
her lovely visage a canvas of chaos etched in splendor and decay
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A man is not his decaying remains...but more the legacy of his deeds.
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Nothing ever comes entirely to rest, the decay of death into memory into myth a prime example. Whatever only true for the moment of successful application. Absolute Truth is Faith~ Omnipotent.
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Dead leaves lay still until the wind takes them here and there: even the last flower is withered: yet, yet there is a beauty in decay.
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The leaves lay dead and still and the wind takes them here and there,
even, the last flower has withered. Yet, there is a beauty in decay.
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I don't live, I decay.
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degeneration
The need to return a land to its past, is a sign of degeneration. The ignorance of the truth. Greatness is not only found in the past, it is the presence, and future. The denial of investing in a truth is called decay. The use of hate and the threat of war, anytype of violence shows how incompetent the nation has become. For using these facets of the rot, shows a nations downfall. The question is how far and how fast will it occur.
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How deadly this sweet drink of praise, that sipped, decays the thing it lauds.
A sly deceiver, 'tis, oh yes, this chronic craving for applause. A first place prize, the kiss of death, to art that once roamed free. But now is surely lost, I fear, in mires of mimicry.
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