Fear is a tremble: the soul's eyes find a something it can't, and the courage feigns ignorance and flies.
Hate is a tremble: the sum is taut and restrained, waging war against and on a self which self can't understand.
Love is a tremble.
Death is a tremble.
Words are a tremble, and sometimes, when forced, they can stand still.
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Abstract concepts are easy to misuse. They make your writing sound profound when profundity is well away. Or we'll aweigh?
ReplyDeleteInteresting self-critique.
ReplyDeleteI like the thoughts what you've said here make me think.
This is rather intriguing, though. Thanks for giving me something to think and visual.
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