How
can one put into words
something so beautiful,
something so beautiful,
so
pure that to touch it
its
energy would tarnish and cloud
lost
by the attempt of definition
the
attempt of definition unnecessary
an
attempt that ought to have never been attempted
for
lack of thoughts and feelings that accompany such beauty,
cause
it to be a matter of taboo?
How
can such pure thoughts put on paper end up withered and curled
simply
because one tries to share the emotions
that
pour out of such times?
How can such beautiful moments no longer be regarded as beautiful,
How can such beautiful moments no longer be regarded as beautiful,
due to
the letters, strung into words, strung into phrases
to
impress just how beautiful
letters
that ruin and break and spit on the graves of such beauty?
How can one's will to share with his piers
How can one's will to share with his piers
the
wonders of the world
cause
it to crumble and vanish like dust?
How
can true happiness be shared
if
happiness itself is regarded as cliché?