Jul 25, 2005 02:18
Mmmm Nightwish.
Such threnodies to wish me off to sleep, seeking angels as I traverse the realms of the Oneiroi.
Perhaps I walk the shell of the nautilus, spiralling inward circumlocutional paths, spinning words and wheels upon that which is past. Yet how does one acquiesce to winter unending with the taste of the sun burning in the back of one's mind?
Heh, so ostentatious. I should be sipping at absinthe, courting a personal armageddon as I summon wormwood minoris to poison the waters of body and soul. Only I rarely see the point in drinking anymore, really. I suppose there was a time where I was captivated by the baroque verse of romantic poets, until I learned what an ass Percy Bysshe Shelley was. Florid words and high ideals as a facade for wanton hedonism is neither productive nor particularly honorable.
Rather, I must seek a return to honest toil and the simplicity of Thoreau, to seek peace for now in deep woods and thought. Let the sirens call to me in dreams, the clouds have come once more and the stars have gone away.