She sat with fear in her eyes, gazing at the pattern in my coffee cup…
She said, My son, don't be sad, for love is written in your destiny.
My son, he who dies for the beloved dies a martyr.
Your cup is a terrifying world, and your life is journeys and wars.
You will love many times, my son, and you will die many times, my son.
You will fall in love with many woman, and return like a defeated king.
I have read fortunes and traced the stars so many times… But never have I read a cup like yours.
I have read fortunes and traced the stars so many times… But never have I known sorrows like yours.
It is your fate, my son, to sail forever in the sea of love without sails…
And for your life, through all its years, to be a book of tears...…
It is your fate, my son, to remain imprisoned between water and fire…
For despite all its flames… despite all its past… despite the sadness that dwells within us day and night… despite the wind, the stormy sky…
Love, my son, will remain the sweetest of destinies.
In your life, my son, there is a woman whose eyes, glory to the Creator of her eyes.
Her mouth is shaped like a work of art…
Her laughter is music and roses…
And her wild Gypsy hair travels across the whole world…
A woman a heart can adore and make the center of its world.
But your sky is rainy, and your road is blocked… blocked…
For the beloved of your heart, my son, sleeps in a guarded palace…
And the palace is big, my son, with dogs that guard it, and soldiers.
And the princess of your heart is sleeping.
He who enters her chamber…
He who asks for her hand…
He who gets near the fence of her garden…
He who attempts to untie her braids…
Is lost… lost, lost. my son…
You will search for her, my son, in every land.
You will ask the sea waves about her, and ask the turquoise shores…
You will roam seas upon seas… and your tears will flow like rivers…
And your sorrow will grow until it becomes trees…
And you will discover, after the years have fled, that you were chasing a thread of smoke...
For the beloved of your heart, my son, has no land, no town, no address…
And it's hard, my son, to love a woman who has no address.
But It is your fate, my son, to walk forever through love along the edge of a dagger,
to remain alone like seashells, to remain sad like a willow tree.
It is your fate, my son, to travel endlessly across the sea of love without sails.
to love millions of times and return like a dethroned king.
dededos
prguitarman
origamiaround
discoholicmusic
janainaart
kaledo-art
blakekathryn
jacobvanloon
ellievsbear
