Wednesday, 11 February 2015

Sparkles and Stings.

Life used to have sparkles in it, but with the sparkles always came the stings. Never was one without the other, and those two sensual imps – the seductive and the destructive – were what drove the rollercoaster.

Tonight I have three messages to send. One is a message of thanks, one a message of loathing, and the third a wordless appreciation of a vision – a picture of grace, charm and loveliness so eloquently entrancing that the imps themselves would quake at the prospect of interfering. (Although I expect they would still do so anyway.)

It’s hard having eventually to be anaesthetized by the cold light of harmless realism.

And it’s been ages since I had the wherewithal to be cryptic, but it’s also been quite a while since I saw something glint.

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