How Am I Going to Make It Right?
"With a palm full of stars
I throw them like dice
On the table
Repeatedly
I shake them like dice
And throw them on the table
Repeatedly
Until the desired constellation appears."
Some things are so beautiful you can't be sad. I'm sad, then I see something that is so contrary to depression that I cannot help but see my self-pitiful state as an imposed anomaly in a wonderful world. Though
there are some things I have no right to reconcile. There are certain things in certain cases that deserve suffering in its full term.
But I don't care. Suffering doesn't change the daylight streaming into my window, nor the half of a milky-blue robbin's egg.
And sometimes I'm evil. Evil doesn't stop the lovely things existing. If I find joy in them, is that unfair? Is it unjust?
Being evil has never made me happy, and isn't that the point? I suppose it is easier that way. Or is it harder? Well
I'll just keep casting.
I throw them like dice
On the table
Repeatedly
I shake them like dice
And throw them on the table
Repeatedly
Until the desired constellation appears."
Some things are so beautiful you can't be sad. I'm sad, then I see something that is so contrary to depression that I cannot help but see my self-pitiful state as an imposed anomaly in a wonderful world. Though
there are some things I have no right to reconcile. There are certain things in certain cases that deserve suffering in its full term.
But I don't care. Suffering doesn't change the daylight streaming into my window, nor the half of a milky-blue robbin's egg.
And sometimes I'm evil. Evil doesn't stop the lovely things existing. If I find joy in them, is that unfair? Is it unjust?
Being evil has never made me happy, and isn't that the point? I suppose it is easier that way. Or is it harder? Well
I'll just keep casting.