"If you do not believe that my heart breaks, come back and look with me into this glass!" - Li Po
It is a game, the playful shattering of the heart; years upon years, systematic disruptions, tremors, terminal choices. Terminal pieces, too small to be gathered; lost, scattered.
Getting involved with things as they are always ending, making sure of it. Love is too often a test to confirm the existence of its own worth, to define its boundaries by the edge of negation. It is a dangerous game, affirming promises through trial, error, destruction, recovery. The spirit following fire, many fresh startings.
The phoenix should not be tested, called upon with its never new love.
It is only an Arabian desert myth, a recurring mirage, a phantom... …and never knew love.
The phoenix should not be tested, called upon with its never new love.
It is only an Arabian desert myth, a recurring mirage, a phantom... …and never knew love.
I have only ever fallen in with those who wished to be there, too often accepting the blame.
… more willing to be more willing to be more willing.
.
