it takes great beauty, and lot of favour with fate,
and a certain je ne sais quoi
for the spellbound princess frozen on the abandoned tower,
to be noticed and rescued by the (correct) prince

if, alas, any or all these ingredients be missing,
when the time has run out, and the spell fallen into effect,
she stays that way through eternity, captured, frozen, in stone,
with just a moment and a memory trapped with her for consolation

the sun, however, stubbornly obtuse,
keeps rising and setting as usual each day!
somehow, it seems to have missed the realisation,
that life is slowly coming to an end.

knowing the peculiar bitter flavour of my fate,
and my alloted princes particular brand of impotence,
the allotment itself, i could say,
is yet a twist of fate

my beloved fate.
my like you cannot leave without sorrow the lanes of your mourning,
can you ever be detached from your tormentor, your hatred,
can you ever let go of your thorns, your cross, your flaws?

did cain love adam more or abel
is love, human love, ever love without violence of passions
without anger, demands, and jeoulousy?
or is it so because we all inherited our passionate hate-love from him?

perhaps he who taught me was right
perhaps all love starts at the seeds and the roots layed,
moves upwards to shoot through the ground strong and straight
but otherwise, it twists in spiral like a snake eating its tale. for ever

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