>thinking of the most ironic things<

The summer's glowing sunbeams know how to bring its smiles. Although, the Lord knows we've lost so much. As death and losses occur almost all at once, the commiseration gets to everyone eventually, and within everyone a mournful heart.

Why does the feeling of loss haunt us deeply? Like a ghost that follows without anyone's intention, nor compliance. It's diffucult to write with demure and elegance with a burdened, heavy heart. Discretionary choices hardly empower our senses. How often is it that one gets to write a letter of condolance sparkling with the free spirit of bliss, at the same time with the knowledge of loss? It's naturally odd.

It burdens me gravely that despite the profundity of words that expresses so deeply in this time. . . I can hardly express joy in condolance. Words can hardly do that. Ironic, simply ironic. 

4.10.07 13:38