Sonja profile picture

Sonja

About Me

Need a nice, cheap place to stay in New York City or Madrid???
  • CHECK THIS OUT

  • La vida es un ideal en marcha, un ideal en desarrollo, que nunca podrá ser cumplido, y que sin embargo se cumple en cada cuarto de segundo. Ese ideal en marcha sigue su desarrollo sin pausa y sin prisa, y dentro de él estamos todos. No podemos esperar ser llevados y traídos por el desarrollo de ese ideal . . .
    Myspace Backgrounds


    Poet's Death is His Life
    The dark wings of night enfolded the city upon which Nature had spread a pure white garment of snow; and men deserted the streets for their houses in search of warmth, while the north wind probed in contemplation of laying waste the gardens. There in the suburb stood an old hut heavily laden with snow and on the verge of falling. In a dark recess of that hovel was a poor bed in which a dying youth was lying, staring at the dim light of his oil lamp, made to flicker by the entering winds. He a man in the spring of life who foresaw fully that the peaceful hour of freeing himself from the clutches of life was fast nearing. He was awaiting Death's visit gratefully, and upon his pale face appeared the dawn of hope; and on his lips a sorrowful smile; and in his eyes forgiveness.
    He was poet perishing from hunger in the city of living rich. He was placed in the earthly world to enliven the heart of man with his beautiful and profound sayings. He as noble soul, sent by the Goddess of Understanding to soothe and make gentle the human spirit. But alas! He gladly bade the cold earth farewell without receiving a smile from its strange occupants.
    He was breathing his last and had no one at his bedside save the oil lamp, his only companion, and some parchments upon which he had inscribed his heart's feeling. As he salvaged the remnants of his withering strength he lifted his hands heavenward; he moved his eyes hopelessly, as if wanting to penetrate the ceiling in order to see the stars from behind the veil of clouds.
    And he said, "Come, oh beautiful Death; my soul is longing for you. Come close to me and unfasten the irons of life, for I am weary of dragging them. Come, oh sweet Death, and deliver me from my neighbors who looked upon me as a stranger because I interpret to them the language of the angels. Hurry, oh peaceful Death, and carry me from these multitudes who left me in the dark corner of oblivion because I do not bleed the weak as they do. Come, oh gentle Death, and enfold me under your white wings, for my fellowmen are not in want of me. Embrace me, oh Death, full of love and mercy; let your lips touch my lips which never tasted a mother's kiss, not touched a sister's cheeks, not caresses a sweetheart's fingertips. Come and take me, by beloved Death."
    Then, at the bedside of the dying poet appeared an angel who possessed a supernatural and divine beauty, holding in her hand a wreath of lilies. She embraced him and closed his eyes so he could see no more, except with the eye of his spirit. She impressed a deep and long and gently withdrawn kiss that left and eternal smile of fulfillment upon his lips. Then the hovel became empty and nothing was left save parchments and papers which the poet had strewn with bitter futility.
    Hundreds of years later, when the people of the city arose from the diseases slumber of ignorance and saw the dawn of knowledge, they erected a monument in the most beautiful garden of the city and celebrated a feast every year in honor of that poet, whose writings had freed them. Oh, how cruel is man's ignorance!
    - Khalil Gibran

    My Interests

    I'd like to meet:

    People who know who they are and are ready to give of themselves on a real and meaningful level. Anyone who is not bound by conventional notions of living, appreciates the essence of freedom and is not judgmental of others’ choices. People who want to experience all extremes of human emotion, and don't insulate themselves; who aren’t afraid to pursue their happiness no matter what direction it may lead them, who live their lives with passion and are open to sharing their inspirations.

    My Blog

    Reverie

    I dreamt a dream of you last nightSimple, but profoundThe love we battled with in livingIn dreaming we'd truly found.Clouds so thick, almost within reachStretched off to meet the seaI wandered along a...
    Posted by on Wed, 21 May 2008 12:21:00 GMT

    Ilusión

    Una pequeña decepción -Una manchaCasi imperceptiblePaulatinamente se extiendeHasta donde llegan sus implicacionesLos dedos de la dudaHurgando, cada vez mas profundoMas alla de lo que querían encontrar...
    Posted by on Sun, 24 Feb 2008 18:45:00 GMT

    Semantics

    Pen to paperLet the words flow -Semantic liberationOf a captive soulA continuumOf circular dimensions Beginning ends.Begins again Wanderings in time A spirit unchained Or simply fractur...
    Posted by on Sat, 29 Dec 2007 19:49:00 GMT

    A Day at Work

    An old, brick plant - once a functioning Bible factory, but long since abandoned. The sky: a dull, featureless grey. Windows half-shattered or missing entirely, from their gaping mouths a vacant bla...
    Posted by on Sat, 22 Dec 2007 19:10:00 GMT

    Evolution

    I saw you last night hiding in the darkness, huddled in the corner of the room.Absorbed in self-loathing you didn't notice me curled in a ball under the bed, prey to childhood's monsters...
    Posted by on Mon, 15 Oct 2007 17:47:00 GMT

    Disconnect

    A solitary rat, its fur a slightly lighter shade of filth than the charred ground, scurries along the tracks below.  In the stillness, its halting movements can be discerned; the slight scratch o...
    Posted by on Sat, 21 Apr 2007 18:09:00 GMT

    Dia de los enamorados

    Almost 1:30am and people are just starting to head out. They stumble their way towards the clubs in motley groups. Crazy spiked hair, striped leggings, piercings, pants hanging off their asses - each...
    Posted by on Thu, 15 Feb 2007 14:42:00 GMT

    Tomorrow

    Last night I anticipated being depressed, and prepared myself for another tomorrow: a grey, wet day would reign outside while I remained in a drug-induced state of quiet contemplation. But I awoke to ...
    Posted by on Wed, 24 Jan 2007 11:22:00 GMT

    In the process . . .

    "He was sitting right there, where you are now, across the table from me . . . 15 minutes later - he was dead. He told me he had gone to buy some meat (Milica always sent him to the store), and w...
    Posted by on Wed, 10 Jan 2007 06:57:00 GMT

    Is Death not more dignified?

    She lies pale and restless, her wrists bound tightly to the railings of the hospital bed. With each halting breath comes a slight gurgle, barely a whisper at her lips. Her eyelids are pressed tightl...
    Posted by on Wed, 01 Nov 2006 11:08:00 GMT