Easy, Hard as it looks

"I write so the endangered thoughts roaming naked and vulnerable through the misty jungles of my mind aren't slain by the guns of practical living" - Kim Krizan

Humans are a frail kind
Commitment no longer is
What once was
Is long forgotten
Love feeble in nature
Or lack of will inescapably befalls.

Carefully hand picked lillies
Garlands that feed
It is always hungry
Always craving
And when it thinks it lacks
Weak still is a heart
Unable to fight, unproving.

In the end the much you take
Equals the much you make
Lennon right in demeanor
Wrong as recipe of success.
Nothing is
Nothing was
Nothing will ever be for certain
In the world of love and hurt
And leaps of faith

Rather it is the temporary borrow
Of a person
Short while and short lived
Momentarily happiness
Never eternal, never true
Everlasting love.

La destrucion es otra forma de construcion….si la superas.

“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being “in love” which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.”

“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being “in love” which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.”

“I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.’” 

“I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.’” 

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Modest Mouse

—People as Places as People

(Source: homebound)