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The Cool, Crisp AirThe cool, crisp air stung my face. A dim bluish sun peered at me occasionally between scattered clouds. Grey silhouettes above cast strange, long shadows across the black mountains and into the valley where the city lay. I had landed an hour ago, but there was no tram to the place I was headed, so I walked. I walked through the icy breeze, an often manifest element of the winters here on Chernobog. It had been a while since I visited the old man, and I knew it would do me well to have some tea and good conversation.The Cool, Crisp Air
After walking for some time I came to the hill where the old house sat. It was still in good repair; even in his ol
by ~angstengel
The Space Between CitiesThere's something to be said About the way the air cools And the evenings grow long... The hues of green and blues In the Autumn twilight Reminds me of the lake at sunset And nights by the wavesThe Space Between Cities
By the light of the polar star I drive back home,
alone
Through that space between cities Where the silent countryside sleeps And the glitter above seems Just a little more real
Smell the leaves on the wind? It's the change in the world The
by ~angstengel
AzureThe circle of azure all around My feet so firmly planted on the concrete Like a tree In a gardenAzure
I know where I go after this To the ocean In the sky To the azure sea With white cliffs and endless hills A sea of senses and thoughts alone
My limitations are manifest I know...yes, I know too much I know that I know too much But I hope you find as much Pleasure in your mediocrity As I do in watching you slowly die
Ah, but what is death to you. A dictionary term in the back of your head It's nothing to worry about. &nbs
by ~angstengel
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- Current Residence: Michigan
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Потрясающий!
(жаль я не имел время, чтобы развивать моего Русского!)
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Gijutsu yori shinjutsu'
'L'esprit (la force psychologique)avant la technique' Maître Gichin Funakoshi
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I LIKE THE NUMBER NINE.
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Seven am;
the garbage truck beeps as it backs up
and I start my day thinking about what I´ve thrown away.
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Und der Blick ins Leere.
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Les sanglots longs des violons de l'automne blessent mon coeur d'une langueur monotone.
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