Originally posted by Grampy Bobby
Portia:
"The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes."
The Merchant Of Venice Act 4, scene 1,
Could keep up following well somebody else's traces
For years, but instead I risked to race with the aces;
I risked to get to know myself
By means of killing every self
Of mine like a killer elf;
Now I feel free enough to pick
Decisions from an inner peak
Of mine, thus free afar to see
I 'm headin' towards the darkest Sea;
Shakespeare is really too advanced
for this bug that swirls in trance
But even shallow, my shallow trace
is my footprint in my life's race;
Nothing is happening actually
We 're only waves eternally
Your self, my self are passing through
the Sea remains down there;
If only we could understand
that this Sea is our only stand
the life of our enemies
with love we would spare;
bb, 17:07LT, Athens 072709
π΅