Withering trees wither away when the leaves are dead. I'd dream of leaves instead, instead as if the heat had never fled. Oh, the sun would be bright, not black. This is not the dream I thought it was, I thought it was. This is not the dream that I loved, that I loved. |
Author's Comments
"This is not the dream that I loved."
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Community News9471 The Road to 100 Million Deviations!$Heidi
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^Ikue has been a devious member of our community for almost 7 years and in this time he has proven to be nothing short of dedicated and devoted. Whilst volunteering his time over the last 22 months as a Gallery Moderator within the Community Relations Team, Chris has brought the Vector gallery and many vector artists directly into the spotlight. ^Ikue's commitment to the community is evident in everything he touches and you can always find him reaching out to others with an encouraging word. Chris is a natural leader with a vibrant and empathic personality, and is a role model for deviants everywhere. It's ev... Read More
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Comments
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Quod me nutrit, me destruit.
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Why is love...so bitter...yet so sweet?
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"Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. " - Kahlil Gibran
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