I sometimes hold it half a sin,
To put in words the grief I feel,
For words like nature half reveal,
and half conceal the soul within.
But for the unquite heart and mind,
A use in measured language lies,
The sad mechanic exercise,
Like dull narcotics, numbing pain.
- Lord Tennyson (In Memoriam)
My confessions here, are but an attempt, to use “measured language” for unloading what burden life imposes on the heart and mind.
This may or may not be of interest to anyone. I am just trying to create a space on the web, for my writings. I have no specific purpose for doing so, but I am acting on a whim of my mind.
If someone finds my writings useful, in any sense of the word, I will know that I made good use of the space I reserved for myself. And if it goes unnoticed, my say is-
“Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathomed caves of oceans bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air."
