(no subject)
((Cont from HERE))
"We're getting married!!"
I sunk to the floor upon hearing such words, glad that the Moor was gone -- or perhaps I had imagined him entirely? -- but now what was I to do? No one I spoke to appeared to even acknowledge me, and now... oh now, my world was lost.
My beloved married to another? To... to... to a trollop?
My intended poem was discarded, and another came to mind...
Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust,
And thou my mind aspire to higher things:
Grow rich in that which never taketh rust:
Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings.
Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might,
To that sweet yoke, where lasting freedoms be:
Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light,
That doth both shine and give us sight to see.
I wiped at the tears on my cheeks and sought out something to end it all... a-ha! There, on a desk, appeared a blade of sorts. Yes, just the sort of thing for a poet to use to end his miserable life.
O take fast hold, let that light be thy guide,
In this small course which birth draws out to death,
And think how evil becometh him to slide,
Who seeketh heaven, and comes of heavenly breath.
"Come home, sweet dagger!" I shouted as I thrust it into my chest and... nothing happened. I tried again, then once more with the same results. "But... surely... no. how can this be?"
Then farewell world, thy uttermost I see,
Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me.
I sank to the floor once more, grasping the blade with all the sadness I felt, yet everytime it hit my chest, it passed through me... again, and again, and again...
"How can I commit suicide properly to show my beloved how his rejection has hurt me if I cannot even pierce my own breast?"
Damn.
"We're getting married!!"
I sunk to the floor upon hearing such words, glad that the Moor was gone -- or perhaps I had imagined him entirely? -- but now what was I to do? No one I spoke to appeared to even acknowledge me, and now... oh now, my world was lost.
My beloved married to another? To... to... to a trollop?
My intended poem was discarded, and another came to mind...
Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust,
And thou my mind aspire to higher things:
Grow rich in that which never taketh rust:
Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings.
Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might,
To that sweet yoke, where lasting freedoms be:
Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light,
That doth both shine and give us sight to see.
I wiped at the tears on my cheeks and sought out something to end it all... a-ha! There, on a desk, appeared a blade of sorts. Yes, just the sort of thing for a poet to use to end his miserable life.
O take fast hold, let that light be thy guide,
In this small course which birth draws out to death,
And think how evil becometh him to slide,
Who seeketh heaven, and comes of heavenly breath.
"Come home, sweet dagger!" I shouted as I thrust it into my chest and... nothing happened. I tried again, then once more with the same results. "But... surely... no. how can this be?"
Then farewell world, thy uttermost I see,
Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me.
I sank to the floor once more, grasping the blade with all the sadness I felt, yet everytime it hit my chest, it passed through me... again, and again, and again...
"How can I commit suicide properly to show my beloved how his rejection has hurt me if I cannot even pierce my own breast?"
Damn.