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Journal created:
on 28 May 2007 (#13035052)
Updated:
on 19 August 2015
Name:
Steve
Birthdate:
2 October 1987
Location:
Elmira, New York, United States
External Services:
What Can I Say?

I'm a guy looking for more out of life. I'm a human, not too unlike yourself, just trying to find my niche, fulfill my passions and live without regret.


Pablo Neruda - Weak With The Dawn.


The day of the luckless, the pale day appears
with a cold heart-breaking smell, with its forces in grey,
with no bells on, dripping dawn from everywhere :
it is a shipwreck in a void, surrounded by weeping.

For the moist shadow went from so many places,
from so many vain objections, from so many earthly halts
where it should have occupied even the design of the roots,
from so much sharp form that defended itself.
I weep in the midst of what is invaded, amid the uncertain,
amid the growing savour, lending the ear
to the pure circulation, to the increase,
without the direction giving way to what is approaching,
to what issues forth dressed in chains and carnations,
I dream, burdened with my moral remains.

There is nothing sudden, nor light-hearted, nor with a proud form,
everything seems to be making itself with obvious poverty,
the light of the earth comes out of its eyelids
not like a bell's ringing, but more like tears :
the fabric of the day, its frail linen,
is good gauze for the sick, is good for waving
goodbye, in the wake of an absence :
it is the colour that wants only to replace,
to cover, to engulf, to subdue, to make distances.
I am alone with rickety materials,
the rain falls on me, and it is like me,
it is like me in its raving, alone in the dead world,
repulsed as it falls, and with no persistent form."


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