Your wings are
BROKEN and tattered. You are
an angelic spirit who has fallen from grace for
one reason or another - possibly, you made one
tragic mistake that cost you everything. Or
maybe you were blamed for a crime you didn't
commit. In any case, you are faithless and
joyless. You find no happiness, love, or
acceptance in your love or in yourself. Most
days are a burden and you wonder when the
hurting will end. Sweet, beautiful and
sorrowful, you paint a tragic and touching
picture. You are the one that few understand.
Those that do know you are likely to love you
deeply and wish that they could do something to
ease your pain. You are constantly living in
memories of better times and a better world.
You are hard on yourself and self-critical or
self-loathing. Feeling rejected and unloved,
you are sensitive, caring, deep, and despite
your tainted nature, your soul is
breathtakingly beautiful.
*~*~*Claim Your Wings - Pics and Long Answers*~*~* brought to you by Quizilla
There was a sort of beauty in the journey; the car glid down the half damp tarred plane as the dried leaves danced about our windows, whirling with the winds that dashed alongside with us, as if protecting what wordly forces may destroy. But, such beauty is short-lived to the heart of a troubled one, first grieved by the absence of a loved one, then saddened by the rejection of the other love of her life. Maggie Tulliver would surely have wept sorrowfully up in her little attic when Tom Tulliver was displeased with her, but fortunately for her, her Father was much more loving and accepting. unlike others'.
The complexity of human relationships cannot be emphasised enough; one compromises for personal gain, for small pockets of security, and some measure of acceptance, but all these, done also in the name of Love. So where does
Love stand? Is it Love that binds the hearts together, truly, or for other purposes yet? Of course, one does not categorize matters as arbitrary as this; a sliding scale is used. It strikes me so often of late how ironic it is that the older we become, the more aware we are of our own personal needs of companionship and love, yet at the very same time, we distrust increasingly and relationships grow gradually estranged. Yet, this is no fault of man. We plod along believing, arguing, fighting, insisting and debating, but hardly does one get answers that are wholly and completely satisfactory. I heard on the radio today that "men are sometimes insatiable". I retorted in response to this, "men are
always insatiable". We are chained and bound to the inconsistent human heart, but one does not complain, we are led by inevitable changes and tastes.
But. Despite the passing capriciousness, there exists in each of us still, the quietest but surest calling; these silent echoes are our guiding forces, our instinctive reflexes that will carry us through the many years ahead to come.
Today, my heart grows grey with the incessant showers; let him come home soon and safe. When he does, i'll be dancing with the rain once more.
