Thunder never knocked me down,
not like when I saw her face —
laid me out flat on the floor, in
utter disbelief at what my eyes
were beholding. Somewhere, a
thousand cages each with a thousand
doves were simultaneously opened,
clouds and clouds of them flapping
up and out and away.... I imagine
true love is not like what the poets
say, not even this one — I think
true love could best told by two
mirrors, reflecting off each other,
a really simple infinity of picture
in picture in picture: except that
in the 6,972nd reflection (and
only that one), you'd see her face
and nothing else. Just how would
that work? I dunno, man, I didn't
make the stuff — y'know, love?
Briana
5:55am saturday, 17th august
The beauty in this thought is remarkable... the writer pulls the emotions out of the reader and into love. I love it!
Briana