Bandits with planes and Moors, bandits with finger-rings and duchesses, bandits with black friars spattering blessings came through the sky to kill children and the blood of children ran through the streets without fuss, like children's blood. Jackals that the jackals would despise, stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out, vipers that the vipers would abominate!   Neruda

Friday, September 13, 2013

True faith

I don't believe love ever dies.

I don't know whether it's just because I will not let it expire or because I truly believe it is a thing in this world or because I want to believe I will always be loved.



I prefer my dreams to reality. I prefer to be a true believer to believing in nothing, even though there is nothing to believe in. I would rather die for an ideal than live forever mired in the real.

I want there to be a book in which we are written, each of us, where we are weighed. I want there to be a book in which we are judged fairly.

I know there is nothing but darkness outside but it doesn't stop me from wanting. We all get given shovels. We can spend our days digging our own graves or we can dig foundations. You don't get to just stand there shovel in hand. You just don't. I can't prove it but I know you don't.



posted by Dr Zen @ 1:31 pm

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