My love to you is ambiguous. the glamorousness of beauty goes well with that of love, I hate following love, I find it appalling and make a point of developing my own way. The truth is, in real life, I have loved the same way since I was 16 years old - it's absolutely tragic. I know what you're thinking (shushhh!) What a horrible thought. I am lucky enough to be on good terms with a number of "artists". It is pure bliss! And since I live in London it is easy to make a phone call and simply go to see them.
I love the understated sophistication of a certain Arabian elegance. But I fear that some still retain the traces of a somewhat typically bad taste. I refuse to go into details, but my friend Corline often says to me "there's no mistaking you for anything other then an Arab!" (She Laughs). Well at least not a haughty aristocrats! I ought to laugh but then she floored me bursting in laughter when she pulls the skin on her face and grimaces. Asking me what I think of her beauty! I'm sorry my lovely friend, but there's no comparisons to my Queen. She's the stars in my universe. The wind whispers of her beauty and the sun shines from her ever warm heart.
Somehow I imagine that compliments makes you uncomfortable, that you have trouble believing them.... Not a glimpse! (She replies with ignorant) well my moon and universe and all that shebang, while it is important to be wary of flatterers, you also need to learn to accept a sincerely given compliments with grace and gratitude.
A long time ago, in the underground realm, where there are no lies or pain, there lived a princess who dreamt of the human world. She dreamt of blue skies, soft breeze and sunshine.
One day, eluding her keepers the princess escaped. Once outside, the bright sun blinded her and erased her memory. She forgo who she was and where she came from. Her body suffered cold, sickness and pain. Eventually she died.
However, her father, the king! Always knew the spirit of his beautiful daughter would return and perhaps in another body, in another place, at another time.
And he would wait for her, until he drew his last breath, until the world stopped turning....
My daughter, my beautiful daughter...
One day, eluding her keepers the princess escaped. Once outside, the bright sun blinded her and erased her memory. She forgo who she was and where she came from. Her body suffered cold, sickness and pain. Eventually she died.
However, her father, the king! Always knew the spirit of his beautiful daughter would return and perhaps in another body, in another place, at another time.
And he would wait for her, until he drew his last breath, until the world stopped turning....
My daughter, my beautiful daughter...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)