An ode to the odes of all that is beautiful.

“An ode to the dancing ideas”

Nothing other than love of words here, and so nothing other than words of love.

It ryhmed so and so…

  • Day 1: Scrutinising
    Who have I become? A landfill of the spiritual phenomenon; a residue of the distillation of good and bad or an excuse of anything and everything I once dreamed of being. I am dark, full of spite and resentment for humankind. I await the change while the change awaits me. And in this mutual patience,Continue reading “Day 1: Scrutinising”
  • The Writer and the word.
    Little does a word care for the ink that was used to write it and for one thought that imprisoned itself to give it meaning. All it cares for is to be seen as it was meant to be seen; Seen by the one who wrote it. It recognizes its creator well yet in theContinue reading “The Writer and the word.”
  • Poem: My Unconcious
    My unconscious is but a union of lovers For Like an ever approving mother it still harbours the most of me in itself. But like a disapproving father it delivers me to fatalities of the conscious. It longs for the part of me it gave away, yet sends me the pangs of agony if IContinue reading “Poem: My Unconcious”