Autrement Dit...
Dead Can Dance -- somehow, the name of that band makes me visualize antediluvian spirits moving like whirling dervishes on the cosmic wheel. And sometimes, just sometimes, I feel like I am one of them: Ancient. Constantly in a rhythmic motion, yet frozen in time.
**
Sometimes words are so pretty that you just want to stare at them in awe, humbled and touched by the sheer beauty they evoke in your mind and senses. And a sigh, tender and inaudible, escapes your lips, and you mouth the pretty words, repeating each syllable slowly and deliberately... It's as if the sensation is begging to be memorized so that, when needed, you can reach into your mind and wrap yourself around those tantalizing words and relive the thrill they first evoked.
Oh beautiful words, one can never have enough of thee.
**
Sometimes words are so pretty that you just want to stare at them in awe, humbled and touched by the sheer beauty they evoke in your mind and senses. And a sigh, tender and inaudible, escapes your lips, and you mouth the pretty words, repeating each syllable slowly and deliberately... It's as if the sensation is begging to be memorized so that, when needed, you can reach into your mind and wrap yourself around those tantalizing words and relive the thrill they first evoked.
Oh beautiful words, one can never have enough of thee.