Wednesday, December 9, 2009
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
The brother got married in September, J.Eio from church got married last Saturday and this coming Saturday, the little and cute Miss E will be marrying her one and only true love.
So yes, weddings on the brain. White lace, roses, pastels and cake. Laughter, sunlight, ang pows, tea and lots and lots of chinese double Joy characters etched on the wall.
Yup, in case you're wondering, I AM that kind of girl. The sappy starry eyed kind. I teared during the first 15 minutes of the movie Up, LOVED Wall-E (yes! robots can fall in love!) and get all misty eyed at weddings. There are things people lose along the way but this sense of hope and wonder shouldn't be one of them.
This is a post for the brother, Miss E, J.Eio and my cousins in Hongkong who're getting married, one after another in January. There is nothing more life changing than meeting and marrying the person you can laugh with (and sometimes at...), fight over the last slice of pizza(or cake!) and grow old with.
Oh, I can't help but speak in cliches here - but you've all only just begun and I want roses without thorns for you, laughter without tears and sunshine without shadow. And if all of that isn't possible, then I'd want someone to share the sunshine and shadow, laughter and tears and to fight the thorns with you.
Some indie rock, dante and a madly illogically beautiful poem by ee cummings.
in that book which is
on the first page
that is the chapter when
i first met you
appear the words...
here begins a new life
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands