PARTIAL DREAMS

Description

ABOUT  THE BOOK

A field of flowers an essay:

Between confusion and reality, between the dilemma wheather to give or to take we have lost the pursuit of love now we chase the enticing feeling that we can feed on to satiate that futile reason to adhere ourselves to the world we cannot eternally attach ourselves to, the only way To be remembered beyond our skin is to become immortal in someone else’s mind to be a memory and bloom again every time a thought chases us into reality between the realms of mind and man. Love in its purest form like the relation between a flower and the sod it adheres itself to, as much as it is a cycle of nature to bloom and die it’s that barter the flower and the sod are both accustomed to, in this world of pain and relief nothing can remain in existence if not accompanied by it. The barter is neither vicious nor vise it is the need, we are all doomed to love, we are all doomed to piece, to bring a meaning to that adherence we love. One shall be the sod for the flower to bloom through and within. what does this bring to them? Other than the selfish trade to feed and to feed off of.
It brings meaning to the love that shall be adhered before and beyond. Shall the flower not bloom and hold the sod beneath it together with its tender silken arms, the thunder to come will seprate the sod from its meaning piece by piece, drop by drop and nothing but a puddle of detachment shall remain.
The barter is not selfish nor selfless, the barter is of need and curiosity, the need of meaning and to bring a meaning and the curiosity to feel love through it. Immortality can only be achieved through remembrance, the memoria that shall be passed on through pathos. if one may achieve relief the other shall adhere to mortal remembance because pain as metaphysicaly understood cannot be shared, it must be embraced to bring relief. When the flower loses its bloom, its meaning piece by piece, petal by petal at the edge of its existence it slithers back into this dirty sodus embrace, the sod that gave the colour to its bloom, a meaning to its remembrance that it slowly crawls into entirety shaped into tiny flower that bloom besides its intangible silhouette on the cold deathbed of dew and moss, between creation and created a memory silently, immortally flows from a flower to a flower. For love so it can make us immortal mere creatures we are crawling our way thought dirt waiting to be found and embraced in one’s heart our limbs turn into wings it is this pursuit that brings a human to being, a memory to a thing and between man and man-made the need to be found shall immortally remain.