i'm a girl who's been blessed with a beautiful family
i'm a girl who's been doubly blessed with beautiful friends
i'm inherently me, flaws and all
but to the people who have come into my life at one point or another
who have given so much of themselves
there is no one more precious to me
nicole : "victory of the people"
Saturday, September 09, 2006
had we but world enough
Had we but world enough, and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime. We would sit down and think which way To walk, and pass our long love's day; Thou by the Indian Ganges' side Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the Flood; And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews. My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow. An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze; Two hundred to adore each breast, But thirty thousand to the rest; An age at least to every part, And the last age should show your heart. For, lady, you deserve this state, Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity. Thy beauty shall no more be found, Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound My echoing song; then worms shall try That long preserv'd virginity, And your quaint honour turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust. The grave's a fine and private place, But none I think do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue Sits on thy skin like morning dew, And while thy willing soul transpires At every pore with instant fires, Now let us sport us while we may; And now, like am'rous birds of prey, Rather at once our time devour, Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power. Let us roll all our strength, and all Our sweetness, up into one ball; And tear our pleasures with rough strife Thorough the iron gates of life. Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run.
we are one-winged angels
learning to fly
with balance of moments
in bright blue sky
will our wings eventual
sprout out to flee
when minds are unabashed
spread wide and free
why hearts abound spin
and stars do burn
whether sand doth slip
to fathoms churn
which is heaven on earth
gives soul to birth
where lays upon the hearth
our loud jarring mirth
