As I

03 Dec 2013

Blood swept, eyes doubting laughter gasping for light or the hope of being born, the sky is mere wishing, a fragrant taste of forgetting our moon, a labyrinth of doubt. as I bring pen to paper the wind picks up and spirits shimmer casting shadows upon lone mountains glaring.

frigid

"Man can will nothing unless he has first understood that he must count on no one but himself; that he is alone, abandoned on earth in the midst of his infinite responsibilities, without help, with no other aim than the one he sets himself, with no...

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