Activities of Ardiente Antonio

I have found my place in the world.
It is to remain me.
It is to smile with whatever may be left remaining.
It is to bring forth the fruit of my character upon others so that they may reflect and give wonder.
...

Oh, how lovely you are.

How open-going the simple gesture of the lift of your lips, or the care in your eyes for one's well-being.
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Oh pearls of the ocean, are you raining just for me? Do my tears reflect yours on days like these? I'm deeply sorry.

Will she wail for me too? To the very person I should be praying to, do you rue my existence? I'm deeply sorry.
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For if I were to kill you.. The stars would stop shining as brightly as they do and would come and murder me too.

For if I were to stomp on them.. The beasts of the Lord's earth shall chomp to my very bones, nothing will be left of the sinner.
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History arches the memories of time. What of mine?
Conflicted between wanting and having no desire for a legacy. Whenever may it come in handy?
Be it famous or infamous, what will it matter to the people of today? When will it ever matter what I have done on Friday?
A pity a person's hard work is usually noticed after their death. But what of mine?
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My soul begs to differ.
What has become of me is sinful, but in sin there is choice. And in choice is the possibility for the love I seek.
So my actions start to change. To change like the thawing of a river from winter's cold. Here awaits spring.
And my thoughts decide to think of what will come instead of what hasn't. Hope is the key.
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I wonder how you'll be, if it was March and still lonely.
Will you crumble just as I did, or be the sunshine I hoped to meet?
Your presence makes my smile widen as big as the Nile.
Your face during our moonlit embrace is a real tearjerker.
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I used to wear the mask, but now I consider it a disease. Those untrue feelings maliciously regressed me into that of an ordinary

When I am alone I wonder. Oh, how I loiter.
These emotional feelings of mine, so complex yet incredibly bland.
My heart calls out for another, but on all occasions I do stutter.
That's when all things feel bleak, yet again I stumble over my joyful streak.
...

Are you chaos because you refuse order? Or are you order simply because you subdue chaos?