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Loneliness

  • Loneliness, by Rilke

    Being apart and lonely is like rain.
    It climbs toward evening from the ocean plains;
    from flat places, rolling and remote, it climbs
    to heaven, which is its old abode.
    And only when leaving heaven drops upon the city.

    It rains down on us in those twittering
    hours when the streets turn their faces to the dawn,
    and when two bodies who have found nothing,
    dissapointed and depressed, roll over;
    and when two people who despise each other
    have to sleep together in one bed-

    that is when loneliness receives the rivers…

  • A hard truth to swallow

    Born Henry Moore about 600 years ago, the man now known as Fin Blade still walks the earth. He had had many names and many lives. He has traveled across the world in search of something he hadn't been able to define. Maybe when he finds it, he will finally be able to rest.
  • Kingdoms are but cares
    State is devoid of stay
    Riches are ready snares
    And hasten to decay

    Pleasure ‘s a privy prick
    Which vice doth still provoke
    Pomp, unprompt; and fame a flame
    Power a smouldering smoke

    Who meaneth to remove the rock
    Out of the slimy mnd,
    Shall mire himself, and hardly ‘scape
    The swelling of the flood