The Doe Eyed Cup 𓃴
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It took her years
to realise the loss of her dream was the gift of ambiguity;
the unrooted trees
that created the space for flowers to grow.
He thought that in her eyes he would ascend to an angelical stature; and, as he attached the fervent nature of his companion more and more closely to him, he heard the strange impersonal voice which he recognized as his own, insisting on the soul’s incurable loneliness. We cannot give ourselves, it said: we are our own.
براک يك بار به من گفت: «تو ته قلبت هميشه عاشق زيبايي كلاسيك بوده ای.» راست مى گفت. آن زمان اين طورى بود. هنوز هم اين طورى است. مردم كه راه نمى افتند هر روز زيبايي جديد توليد كنند.
