Organisation of disorganised thoughts

Putting a thinking heart to work,
Staring at the dull ceiling of my room, imagining worlds and cartographies beyond
Thinking of battles won and wars lost
In the battlefields of Crimea, or that of Nuremberg,
The wind hits my face through the bedroom window,
Carrying messages of love, war, final goodbyes and first meetings
The letter of a dying soldier to his mother in America
The painting of a young father for his daughter in France
The final text of goodbye from inside the W.T.C
And the random key-hits of a lost soul
Pleading for a reader..

The Prelude

For readers who expect the prelude to 'be the swelling act to the imperial theme',....well, you may be disappointed. Its just some random key hits on my keyboard and definitely the 'spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings', But i had to start 'someday, somewhere', and i guess after wasting 'world enough and time', this is how my blog would start, 'not with a bang' but neither with a 'whimper'. Try and read between the 'words words words' and you will find the influence of the author who wrote about wasting one's days in the land of dreams after having awakened from a 'hundred years of solitude'....