M
MiraMirror
Guest
"These tones of memory sent upon the wind, rising towards the sky
Undeterred by rain, dancing freely, form a eulogy of short life.
Singing, singing, never rewarded
Though running and running, never reaching your destination
Though climbing and climbing, you fall, nails digging into the ground
Though fighting and fighting, your wounds still unhealable
Even so, humans struggle to live, wretchedly.
And that, I think-Is something beautiful.
My children, weaving the road;
Tell your tales to the wind
Someday to be buried in the sky."
-EastNewSound 9:33
Undeterred by rain, dancing freely, form a eulogy of short life.
Singing, singing, never rewarded
Though running and running, never reaching your destination
Though climbing and climbing, you fall, nails digging into the ground
Though fighting and fighting, your wounds still unhealable
Even so, humans struggle to live, wretchedly.
And that, I think-Is something beautiful.
My children, weaving the road;
Tell your tales to the wind
Someday to be buried in the sky."
-EastNewSound 9:33
