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Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Prose 9 - BrigHteR thaN tHe mOOn

It's mesmerizes all the thing that we have in here, in this voiceless heart. Hope is what I could name it. Brighter than the celestial moon, unto the wide sky, it imbibes all the energy and dreamer's prays. Hoping for the best but nothing worst. If only, if there is a lane that could encompass the route of the hope, none will be the splendiferous except the jaunt of the wondrous yearn that lives within us. Wish I could have those rebellious hope that wanted to be with your deemless shadow. Till it tears my heart with those solemn sword of your dreadful words. My life is like a boat that streams me along the river of halo with the arduous waves. Those drops and those shapes of the reflection in the holy fountain, are my dreams that i would hope to attain. The moment would be nothing like bona-fide avant-garde but a rattling effing sumptuous bed that full of bleeding roses. To the moon, to the night sky that held me upon those door of solid lunette, have drowned me into a shoreless bluish beach when it runs through my veins and my viscus of wonder. Dear hope, I need you, I want you, to relinquish the laze side of me, to accentuate the different side of me, to abet the world within my soleless love like an ardor harlequin that awakes me in those flawlesshood. Nevertheless you sing me a melodious tones of your unspoken motion and sensation through those audacious and audible defies that cost me every tearless remedy. You are indeed my way, which I could palpate those magics that evolve me and illume me with the abloom tantalizing wish.   

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