ccandd96

the writing of kuypers
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2001-04-09 14:03:54 (UTC)

springtime.

springtime.

(with c.m.)

i feel the cool breeze as the condensation of night falls on
my lips
as the days grow longer and i feel the excitement of your
eternal kiss
my senses are heightened. is it this night? is it your
touch? is it your
voice that shouts reason in the face of love for a question
of lust by
the tree on the hill?

i know what follows springtime; the heat of winter, the
cooling of fall,
the desolation of winter. is this forbidden isolation all
that is left amidst
the terror of loss? does the tulip get tired of dying when
the seasons change?
are we meant to die too? is this meant to die too? the
changing tides of reason
forbid us to see the true path of destiny. we are
blindfolded by what we think
is truth, and follow our own path to destruction.

if things don't grow, they die. this is the lesson we learn
as children,
this is the lesson of the daffodils and the lillies of the
valley and the
jonquils. and so it is with you and i. the true path of
learning comes after
death, when you and i are tog


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