the lonely shores...

 

THERE is a pleasure in the pathless woods,

There is a rapture on the lonely shore,

There is society, where none intrudes,

By the deep sea, and music in its roar:

I love not man the less, but Nature more,

From these our interviews, in which I steal

From all I may be, or have been before,

To mingle with the Universe, and feel

What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. 

 - Lord Byron, (George Gordon)

         And I thought I was getting terribly depressed with these thoughts. Funny, I can't segregate myself based on these kind of thoughts anymore. I have felt the rapture on the lonely shores. More like a portal to a different place, as simple as that.  But I felt it most when I had a chance to go there in the middle of the night. It was plain ecstasy.  Others looked at me with bizarre bloodshot eyes. “You could have ended up in deep shit” they said. I dont understand. How deeper can this shit hole get? They are deeper than me and I am only trying to get out and they felt that I get into deep shit. Hmmm. Never really been on the pathless woods (i meant alone). And the music in the deep roar of the seas – that is real. That is truth. Have you ever did this? Go to a lonely beach, lie down on your back for a while, keep your ears on the sand and hear the cracking waves approaching your face. How sweeter can music be? The waves going back, I assure you, will pull away all your memories. Crushed under the weights of trillions of tons of ocean waters. I always shout, “Look at my wet, naked bitch moving her body. I am going to be all over you now.” She wouldn't care. She always greets me with her smiling waves and sweet music. And talking about mingling yourself with the universe, I connect myself through stars.  An interconnected, chaotic network designed efficiently by, hmmm...who cares, to transport your thoughts to the cosmic bodies, if that is where you wanted them to reach.  Oh, and if you were wondering, No...I did not want to explain those verses. Come on, I aint good enough for a Lord Byron critic.  And you know that...