my picture
Here, take my Likeness with you, whilst 'tis so;
For when from hence you go,
The next Suns rising will behold
Me pale, and lean, and old.
The Man who did this Picture draw,
Will swear next day my face he never saw.
I really believe, within a while,
If you upon this shadow smile,
Your presence will such vigour give,
(Your presence which makes all things live)
And absence so much alter Me,
This will the substance, I the shadow be.
When from your well-wrought Cabinet you take it,
And your bright looks awake it;
Ah be not frighted, if you see,
The new-soul'd Picture gaze on Thee,
And hear it breath a sigh or two;
For those are the first things that it will do.
My Rival-Image will be then thought blest,
And laugh at me as dispossest;
But Thou, who (if I know thee right)
I'th substance dost not much delight,
Wilt rather send again for Me.
Who then shall but my Pictures Picture be.
(t-minus 15 days and counting)
in other news:
parting is such sweet sorrow (this line is about you only in part...the other is oblivious)
[although chances are youre not reading this, so what does it matter?]
{im sorry}
"And yet, to me,
what is this quintessence of dust?"
i must have a highest turnover-rate of friends ever...its like "oh...ive gotten to know you now...we've had a few deep conversations in which we've shared deep personal secrets...now im all out of ideas...later" its kind of sad to watch it happen. to watch yourself left behind as others move on, and what are you left with? a constant state of nostalgia and regret? sometimes, but not always...
i want to thank you. thank you for staying with me since ive first met you. thank you for always being there for me, thank you for not randomly deciding im not worthy of your friendship. thank you for not trying to change you i am, while simultaneously making me a better person. thank you for listening to my crap, and trusting me with yours. it means more than youre probably aware. you give me hope...
my goodness, this was a long entry.
...suckers...
For when from hence you go,
The next Suns rising will behold
Me pale, and lean, and old.
The Man who did this Picture draw,
Will swear next day my face he never saw.
I really believe, within a while,
If you upon this shadow smile,
Your presence will such vigour give,
(Your presence which makes all things live)
And absence so much alter Me,
This will the substance, I the shadow be.
When from your well-wrought Cabinet you take it,
And your bright looks awake it;
Ah be not frighted, if you see,
The new-soul'd Picture gaze on Thee,
And hear it breath a sigh or two;
For those are the first things that it will do.
My Rival-Image will be then thought blest,
And laugh at me as dispossest;
But Thou, who (if I know thee right)
I'th substance dost not much delight,
Wilt rather send again for Me.
Who then shall but my Pictures Picture be.
(t-minus 15 days and counting)
in other news:
parting is such sweet sorrow (this line is about you only in part...the other is oblivious)
[although chances are youre not reading this, so what does it matter?]
{im sorry}
"And yet, to me,
what is this quintessence of dust?"
i must have a highest turnover-rate of friends ever...its like "oh...ive gotten to know you now...we've had a few deep conversations in which we've shared deep personal secrets...now im all out of ideas...later" its kind of sad to watch it happen. to watch yourself left behind as others move on, and what are you left with? a constant state of nostalgia and regret? sometimes, but not always...
i want to thank you. thank you for staying with me since ive first met you. thank you for always being there for me, thank you for not randomly deciding im not worthy of your friendship. thank you for not trying to change you i am, while simultaneously making me a better person. thank you for listening to my crap, and trusting me with yours. it means more than youre probably aware. you give me hope...
my goodness, this was a long entry.
...suckers...