6: 24 - Poem by Peter Vector
Amazing isn't it?
How text can't quite seem to actual encapsulate it all.
There's something that a letters put together (words) , can't quite reach.
It's more than intangible.
No, it is something lost as soon as it's written (or typed) down.
That feel the Modernist tried to capture with experimentation
That Pre-Raphaelites colored the palates of their portraits
That Transcendentalist sought in the woodlands and sanctum of the self
That Poets and Authors attempt to bind with literary devices and style
That essence only experienced and found within living life.
The meddling of everyday circumstances, and the curiosity that abounds.
The fusion of friendship and fiendship, and surviving through the week.
For all the depth and breadth of a writer or a text,
Nothing can be more chaotically picturesque than each second of life.
But that's just a thought, isn't it?
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You