Indifferent Apathy waited for the possibilities of what could be. He sat there waiting again for those moments that he could barely despair and believe. Indifferent Apathy walked along the narrowed ledge, losing his balance, his focus, losing his merry way again. He began a path that reached a sudden wall for the narrowed path gave in and the concrete ledge began to fall. The wall stood so still so tall, higher than the clouds that floated above the wall. Oh, how he seemed to be losing it all, oh, how his endearment yearned to be. He stood there wondering as he looked up to the endless sky, will there ever be lovely maiden revealing his love and opening his eyes to a new light. For he knew how Indifferent Apathetic he was, so callous, so blue, but his indifference became compassion and his apathy turned to warmth when he opened his eyes realizing she was standing there before him this whole time.
“and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you” – E.E. Cummings
Ophelia Lying in the Meadow, 1889 J.W. Waterhouse
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