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Before | After

Goodbye...

In about 20 minutes I will be calling a taxi to begin the process of going home.

I don't want to go.

I have to, but I don't want to.

The last two weeks have been a real eye-opener for me, showing me a lot of what I'm missing, both in the world and in me.

I don't think it's going to take long for the walls to go back up once I'm back in Brisbane (you try living in an ultra-conservative, parochial, large country town with delusions of grandeur), but I have enjoyed this last week and a bit with the walls down and me not stressing about anything.

I have decided. I will be moving away from Brisbane to Melbourne. It won't happen for a few year (I want to make use of being an hours drive away from my parents for a while before I move) but it is going to happen, guaranteed.

I love you all. Thank you.

Comments

the_tao
Apr. 5th, 2005 09:28 pm (UTC)
Which is a part of the point.

It took me moving to England to figure out that Melbourne was home and exactly what that meant, but I would never have come to that understanding if I had not moved to England.

Sometimes the journey is the reason...

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Desert Rose

I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand

I dream of fire
Those dreams are tied to a horse that will never tire
And in the flames
Her shadows play in the shape of a man's desire

This desert rose
Each of her veils, a secret promise
This desert flower
No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this

And as she turns
This way she moves in the logic of all my dreams
This fire burns
I realize that nothing's as it seems

I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand

I dream of rain
I lift my gaze to empty skies above
I close my eyes
This rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of her love

I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand

Sweet desert rose
Each of her veils, a secret promise
This desert flower
No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this

Sweet desert rose
This memory of Eden haunts us all
This desert flower
This rare perfume, is the sweet intoxication of the fall

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