'That though the radiance which was once so bright
Be forever taken from my sight
though nothing can bring back the hour
of glory in the grass, of splendor in the flower
we will grieve not, rather find
strength in what remains behind' - william wordsworth

of thy sweet embrace which was subsumed, now seeks to consume and envelop me into a state of unconsciousness. a mind once clear, may, should the circumstances permit, fall into folly. though creative expressions which gently flows may be well pursued, the one whom lacks the energy to do so can never bring to full manifestation the glorification of her words.

in other words, i can't think anymore. i'm going to sleep. goodnight :)