hannah_arendt
09-17-2013, 04:09 AM
Semantics
Every spoken word,
having its roots in my brain,
no matter what is supposed to mean,
no matter how is its sound,
seems to be kitschy, shallow and meaningless.
In front of my window,
when I used to be a girl with pony tails,
there was a stack of bricks,
a mountain of useless stones from collapsed houses,
I used to look at it and meditate,
as if it had been a mysterious hill where at noon,
every time exactly then,
wizards with reddish cheeks were coming with glass, bottle- shaped torches.
The light,
this shine surrounded by a dirty magic of daily routine
was meaningful.
My reddish mountain of ruins had to fade away.
One day
I was told that everything had its end.
Sooner or later,
deeper or shallower,
depending on the ageing time
an amber ember fell apart.
Every spoken word,
having its roots in my brain,
no matter what is supposed to mean,
no matter how is its sound,
seems to be kitschy, shallow and meaningless.
In front of my window,
when I used to be a girl with pony tails,
there was a stack of bricks,
a mountain of useless stones from collapsed houses,
I used to look at it and meditate,
as if it had been a mysterious hill where at noon,
every time exactly then,
wizards with reddish cheeks were coming with glass, bottle- shaped torches.
The light,
this shine surrounded by a dirty magic of daily routine
was meaningful.
My reddish mountain of ruins had to fade away.
One day
I was told that everything had its end.
Sooner or later,
deeper or shallower,
depending on the ageing time
an amber ember fell apart.