chanduliar's Journal

 
January 30, 2007 - Tuesday, 6:39 AM CST 
  There's beauty in the barest breath of sunshine, Wasted on all but those who know despair. Each wound turns passions just a bit more grey, Not adding new nor taking old away, Trading joy for something far less fair, Yet turning grace to something far more fine. For such, there is a winding of the way In which a bleakness, soon become a sign, Vividly undoes the dying day, Evoking longings one can hardly bear.  
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    Username: chanduliar
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