Discover A New Perspective
The art of walking on air
Is beyond that which is fair,
And in passing by I hear no steps,
But those which by my lowest evils have crept.
No dreams or illusions to be had,
Only life,
And man’s evils which make me glad.
Sin is a blessing,
And virtue a sin,
See through my disguise and look!
I am become Wind!
When the muses leave, what is left but silence? The abysmal comfort, the unending sleep- when the muse leaves where I go to find it? With what rapture, what song- may I sing now in the day that lasts
The wanderer, the seeker All are all the weaker For they fail to see the world’s telling brand The simple sound of one hand….
I wonder, I wonder If in the depths of our slumber, We ever dream to cease our ceaseless number. Perhaps our questions are naught but answers, Perhaps answers are naught but questions, Our pride is pr
