Meaning, beauty, grace unknown,—Blooming late and all alone. “The Death of Flowers” by Miss Bowles How happily, how happily the flowers die away!Oh, could we but return to earth as easily as they!Just live a life of sunshine, of innocence, and bloom,Then drop without decrepitude, ...
I read a new strange meaning; faint they prayed,“Oh, let me pass and taste the great surprise;Behold me not reluctant nor afraid!”“Nay, I will strive with God for this!” I cried,“As man with man, like Jacob at the brook,Only be thou, dear heart, upon my side!”“Be still...
Beard has grown older, as have we all, and has perhaps grown more existential, perhaps wonders a little more why she strives to find meaning in life, which may in fact be meaningless. I think this struggle is at the core of most necessary art: a sense of the void, and yet, the con...
I wondered how those lips would taste if I used mine against them to thank her. I wondered if she tasted like the candy she was always popping into her mouth. I wondered if she dripped of the angelic sin I always claimed her to be. I wondered for a split second…considered it for a...