11 Nov 2010


I simply sank into the first conclusion...

Slept like the dead, for days. Weeks.


Like the soil. Totally immovable.
Entombed in the womb of time.

I sank deep.  Falling.


I haven't lifted my eyelids in a lifetime.
And I'm down to my last dream.

Amaranth, the immortal, sings the song of awakening.
[Awakening (2010), by Lilyana Millutin]

Love-Lies-Bleeding Amaranth

Immortal Amarant, a Flour which once
In Paradise, fast by the Tree of Life
Began to bloom, but soon for mans offence
To Heav'n remov'd where first it grew, there grows,
And flours aloft shading the Fount of Life,
And where the river of Bliss through midst of
Heavn Rowls o're Elisian Flours her Amber stream;
With these that never fade the Spirits elect
Bind thir resplendent locks inwreath'd with beams...
[Paradise Lost (1667), iii. 353: by John Milton]


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