:(

http://i.imgur.com/jQgEh.gif

Come back to me!!!

The clay is starting to feel happy in my hands :)

Rinse. Repeat.

Crevices in the body.
Gaping hollows.
Long aimless walks.
Silences.
Conversations into the dawn.
Gripping gazes. Winks.
Silences.
Laughter. Tickles.
Endless laughter.
Silences.
Bundling bodies. Embraces.
Wishes. Future.
Silences.
Sultry summers.
Nippy winters.
Colourful Autumns.
Fresh Springs.
Questions. Complaints.
Pain. Longing.
Silences.
Crevices in the body.
Gaping hollows.
Haunting Silences.

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.

~ by Elizabeth Bishop

One of my all-time favourite poems. I have read it from time to time since the first time I came across it some six years ago. Each time, I see a different shade of mood. I see a lot of sarcasm right now. The poem definitely grounds me to the reality of life. Sometimes a reality that's been entrusted upon you by others. But a reality nevertheless.