Librettos of Lily
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She is a poised madness and this is her corner. Poetry, quotes, aesthetics, books and songs. All writing in this channel is copyrighted.
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4 232
Why the way to the heart? Why not to the mind? They say the hardest thing to conquer is the one everyone has control of or at the very least seems to.
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You called me the gates of heaven, the holy floors of the lord wrapped in white paradise, yet I am haunted by the silence that befalls me, peeled over and over for the gaze of the pitiful world.
Yet he called me the diabolical first mother of the nation, tortured and damaged ancient temple. The comfort abode of the fallen, that seed of evil came from me.
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And in denial you find the depth of putting off your work, the lengths you would go to keep yourself from greatness.
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Everything you thought I wrote you imagined. As the sun of my pieces I dedicate to anyone who has walked in life the way I do.
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Adagio music playing softly like a summer breeze, driving on 180 at midnight as the whip of the cold air slightly fogs the moon, bestowing the aura of ethereal melachony through the silent road. You settle to the seat like a comfy couch, hands barely controlling the wheels as if this moving car is your safety net. The drive of a life time, you wake up and you're here, chained to walls.
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I am too complex to live a functioning life, too functioning to also live a simple one.
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The magnolia fate is bound to the seas, to the harsh cold earth, to the wind among the waters and to the flames of deep trenches
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The night ends with a rough voice in the mind. If I could pretend this life was less of sacrifice than it was maybe then, I would adore the footsteps, plant trees in their wake and most of all I would never care for bygone fallen days.
The twilight's final finishing touch was overwhelming regret. If I could believe this downfall had an end, I would put a respect on the name of the soreness, print the inks on empty sheets and declare it art.
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And then each chord is peaceful resonance of the skies playing,
I could be just as it was before the touch was pleading,
And then every thought fitted perfectly in the lines,
I could be just as I was before the signs.
