Photobook

Page 1

[UNTITLED]




In the end all that remained was suffering, Not the laughter, nor the happiness But the aching void of endless pain




The endless passage of time stood still In the weary, grey bubble of existence, Heraclitus was correct, We never enter the same river twice For the river flows on in the ebb of time.



The contours of the face spoke of longing the endless desire to be loved the etched tendons longed for touched, the soul, for union.






The journey begins with a single step One at a time, onwards The past is weary, burdensome, heavy The future is light As light as the unbearable lightness of being





Curled into my finger lies a memory You lying on the bare molten floor Clutching the end of my sweater Gazing at a star studded sky Wishing the moment would last forever.








There are no exits, Only passageways, and dark alleys One moment you believe There is a way to escape, In the next you perceive none.



There are infinite possibilities in this cosmic unfolding comedy








Beauty begins with a single drop of tear rolling down the cheek



What moment in time encapsulated stood still At the waking down of consciousness, The silhouettey, wintry sprawled jarring Beams of light aglow with trepidation. The eventful coming of being, the birth Awaiting a renewal, a muse Stone cold, the darkness, It looms ephemerally We know not what we await, We know not what we behold It lies in the 'now'. You are forever born, Into the labyrinth of death. You forever die, Awake in the minuscule arms of life Aham brahmasmi, I am that I am.








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