Fantasy. It's not what never happens in the depth of midnight. It's not the whim that never lasts. Fantasy is just a hidden shade of mundane.
I am surprised when I walk into the arms of the same dream every night. Into your thoughts, so inevitably. Despite the world that has gone wrong. Despite me, despite you. I can't help nestling this hope of you.
My first love
The only answer
The end of this fantasy
You.
You.
Fantasy is not what never happens in the depth of midnight. Fantasy is how I walk into the arms of this dream every night, no matter what. Fantasy is how I religiously cannot abandon this mundane practice of years. No matter how ridiculous it sounds.
And if this mundane resilience of life is not fantasy, nothing else could be.
And if this mundane resilience of life is not fantasy, nothing else could be.
5 comments:
i wait for ur posts...ur simply brilliant..
Beautiful
Fantasy is how I religiously cannot abandon this mundane practice of years. No matter how ridiculous it sounds.
:)
it is isn't it? its the habit of dreaming a dream that is impossible.
@prateeeeeeeekkkkkoooooooo : ahem ahem!! ;) ;)
hi, just rambled past your blog and found it to be very extreme and well endowed with words vibrating your passion for writing. Keep it up Ms. Moonbeam - the night's not over yet and the nightingale's still humming in the shadow, in search of its next prey :)
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