Sometimes you feel affectionate,and u start to believe it as love, ending only in passion.As these passion grows you feel this might be what they call it love? I'd affections too. Every affection resembling an attachment,strong attachment like I poses the insanity of simian crease,where mind soul heart and rhythm of life bounces on just one song that i found in those affections.Juvenile dreams, mesmerizing emotions and those sufferings, i felt. The joy of finding and sympathy of losses at same or the time next. They could never really hold unto me. They had to die someday somehow. As a juvenile mad with thoughts and lasts just a thought. The haunting desires could never find rest,they never die. These desire would lessen me strengthen me as well. Time n again i'd the affections died, but, as a new days storms a bright shine filled with a promises of new day and new hope, to continue And so does, affections, infatuations, who knows may be a love which shimmers, and glitters but when the shine is gone i'm left with wants of sympathies, none to bestow them upon me.The pupil dilate,cornea dries,heart shrinks,but enthusiasm deviates it to a murmur,a hymn of a sufferer. A time came when enthusiasm, and excitement was lost to patience of time, and patience could never build a shire, wherein i could lay rest to my wanting dreams.
Is it the my past repeating itself, is it the play of emotions again? or is it my most valuable cherish which seems to flourish with you, I have a dream, a desire. I've followed you like the trail,like a shadow, which you could never see. And oh my affection, I've no path but destination, I've no purpose but desires, I've no reasons but longing. Hope, this might be that what they call it love??.
Authenticity is not a piece of show, when emotions never go expressionless.
They die every day, and comeback with a strong force to add a new humor of noway land. The humming of heart,the dances of the feet, and song of the soul, finds the admirer in you, (will you)?? The entheogens casts beliefs, beliefs become rituals, a few rituals become festivals. And now what should i say when thee becometh my entheogen??
The pursuit is never to achieve but its the rules of desires,
and all i want is a relief. that ye may provide me some refuse,some shelters, where my desires may lay. Where shall thou be??? Where shall I find thee??
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