Mag-log in
Passion makes the old medicine new:Passion lops off the bough of weariness.Passion is the elixir that renews:how can there be wearinesswhen passion is present?
Beauty unveils His exquisite formin the solitude of nothingness;He holds a mirror to His Faceand beholds His own beauty.he is the knower and the known,
I am a sculptor, a molder of form.In every moment I shape an idol.But then, in front of you, I melt them downI can rouse a hundred formsand fill them with spirit,
Who is at my door?He said, “Who is at my door?”
I make music at night.I am troubled by the onewhose face e has the color of spring flowers.I have neither sleep nor patience,neither a god reputation nor disgrace.
The intellectual is always showing off,the lover is always getting lost.The intellectual runs away.afraid of drowning;