Isn't beautiful, Love?
The limitless vast nothingness that envelops the integrity of our reality and unbiasely forces us to stand so small agasint the brevity of a night sky or a tree that stood three times longer than our live's inevitable demise could ever promise.
Isn't it glorious, my flower?
Those violent ugly moments when time is sucked into a pin prick funnel and warped into upon us in a wholly selfish perception, where we can see no more than the sheer horror or sorrow placed right in front of us.
Isn't it lovely, Sweet? How our imagination is limited by our past/present/future and how, in complete juxtaposed irony, the same can be said, in that, our past/present/future is only limited by that same variable.
Isn't it lovely, mi mariposa?
The limitless vast nothingness that envelops the integrity of our reality and unbiasely forces us to stand so small agasint the brevity of a night sky or a tree that stood three times longer than our live's inevitable demise could ever promise.
Isn't it glorious, my flower?
Those violent ugly moments when time is sucked into a pin prick funnel and warped into upon us in a wholly selfish perception, where we can see no more than the sheer horror or sorrow placed right in front of us.
Isn't it lovely, Sweet? How our imagination is limited by our past/present/future and how, in complete juxtaposed irony, the same can be said, in that, our past/present/future is only limited by that same variable.
Isn't it lovely, mi mariposa?
