~What thou lovest well remains,
the rest is dross
What thou lov'st well shall not be reft from
thee
What thou lov'st well is thy true heritage
Whose world, or mine or theirs or is it of
none?
First came the seen, then thus the palpable
Elysium, though it were in the halls of hell?
What thou lovest well is thy true heritage
What thou lov'st well shall not be reft from
thee~
(EZRA POUND, PISAN CANTOS, LXXXI)
~Though times are tough
And life is rough
And it seems like there's always a different
road.
That I'll do anything I can to break free
And I just fall away
Like petals on a white rose
Flowing in the wind where I shall be set free
If perhaps the road shall end soon
I will still watch over you
With the wind at my back, I will be there.
The wind has gone
I hope I left a legacy for you
To continue in what you believe, and feel
the sway of the wind of freedom.
Like petals on a white rose
Flying in the wind where being set free
And when the road ends soon
I will be waiting for you
And I won't far at all
For I am here with my hawk and my horse right
beside you always and forever.
Watching and guiding your petals towards me.
Come, sway with the winds and let your petals
fly with the wind, so that I may carrying
them with me at all times in my heart.
I am your knight on a white horse, who has
loved you before I was. You are my one and
only my White Rose~
~The Unicorns
In mythical legend they stand alone,
The most majestic creatures I've ever
known.
Never sighted they fly high above,
Full of passion, magic, grace and love.
A heart of silver, precious and pure,
No human can touch them, they can be sure
For they have wings which whisk them
away,
To a far secret land where only they
stay.
A white mane embedded with tales,
Of fairies, adventures and heroic males.
Stories all entrusted to this marvellous
creature,
Your thoughts and secrets it will never
feature.
A horn which has more meaning than gold,
It could never be stolen, auctioned or
sold.
For it is for the one and only unicorn,
Its magical gift given when born.
A unicorn's death happens every day,
From myths and legends we all stray.
Only in old and dusty books the animal's
alive,
Without imagination it will not survive.~
