Snowfake- I

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Thought the snowflake, 'I'll pave my way';
Made storms in teacups everyday...

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Ricochet

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' Deep '- is what i prefer to think- you are; ' High '- is where i hold you- and ' Far '- is where I think- you stand; ' Honored ' -I am- when you hold my hand. Of no God I knew or believed, I prayed to none, for none I grieved; My self, I held in utmost pleasure, Along you came, and in good measure Gave my pride a rise and a fall; I wished I was you, or none at all. I aspired to be you, yet didn't dare To touch your pedestal, or your honour share. Oh how I fought this superior intervention, Best I was, before that serendipitous introduction; For choose I can't between you or my pride, Make me not, i pray, my soul divide. I deserved you not, or you didn't me; Either way, part ways did we. But strange is this sorrow- or lack of it, I shed no tear, not the tiny bit. We knew the end, from the beginning, Fools were we? Gambled in the hope of winning? We took from us, what we won't miss, We are now ready, to seek new...
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--Disclaimer: As against my own principle, I am making a lot of generalizations here. Caution.-- I read an interesting opinion today, about women. Quoting D.H. Lawrence, from "Women in Love": "And woman is the same as horses: two wills act in opposition inside her. With one will, she wants to subject herself utterly. With the other she wants to bolt, and pitch her rider to perdition." I won't be fair if I deny the first bout of horror (no doubt, feminist in origin) that came to my head; to sample a few- Not a horse, surely! And so judgmental! To define an entire race in mere 40 words!- and so the rest. But a calmer examination of these words opened up another universe of meaning to me. No doubt there is more to women than horses alone. Of course, men can't ride on their backs (and backs alone i mean). But come to think of it, there are two wills inside me at times; and I am a woman- though a poor sample set, but that is the beauty of generalities, who cares ...
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Imagine, strange a world it would be, Were, eyes, there not, nothing there to see! Appearances, i believe, would no longer matter, Important it would be, what's curved, what's flatter. Mornings would be, when the birds begin to sing, Night it would be, when the cold begins to sting. Faces would no longer, maintain a facade, Life would be simpler, devoid of charade. Touch would not be, so personal a feeling, Instrument it would become, for day to day dealing. Nature would not be something to write about, Unless its the chirps, or the sounds out loud. Senses would heighten, of hear and of feel, Though no image there'd be, before man to kneel. Maybe then would we judge, people by their sound, Or by the shape of their faces, angular or round. Then too, I wonder, would we learn, To get past appearances, and begin to turn Our notions and prejudices, to be based upon thoughts And hearts, that our senses today, so easily block? Reach would we then, to what's inside? Today whi...
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