as if the impossibility was needed to make it possible...
What am I to be a lover
and a rogue at that in exile?
Who am I to make pretensions
on any lady's love
much more beautiful than me?
Who am I to nourish wishful thoughts
when it is certain that they can't be realized
beyond a reasonable doubt?
My love is totally impossible,
but the more it keeps on burning,
inflaming and consuming all my life
in a wreck of worry, chaos and pathetic tenderness,
as if impossibility
was all it needed to transcend mortality.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 810 times
Written on 2006-08-26 at 14:18
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
51. As if the impossibility was needed to make it possible...
What am I to be a lover
and a rogue at that in exile?
Who am I to make pretensions
on any lady's love
much more beautiful than me?
Who am I to nourish wishful thoughts
when it is certain that they can't be realized
beyond a reasonable doubt?
My love is totally impossible,
but the more it keeps on burning,
inflaming and consuming all my life
in a wreck of worry, chaos and pathetic tenderness,
as if impossibility
was all it needed to transcend mortality.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 810 times
Written on 2006-08-26 at 14:18
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text