The Sick Rose
Oh Rose, thou art sick
The invisible worm
That flies in the night
In the howling storm :
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
William Blake
This little poem by Blake has won my coin-toss on what to write in my very first blog post. If anyone should ever read this then be assured that my randomness is not all that random. This poem is a favorite of someone who has taught me a lot and to whom I am very grateful.
I have no idea where this blogging experience will take me but I shall pursue it with passion and wit. So here is to yet another ordinary life being shared on this, the world wide web.
M
To look life in the face, always to look life in the face and to know it for what it is and at last, to love it for what it is.
