Romancing the lion

There is truth to writing. It hides in the powers of metaphors but it is naked, nonetheless. It awakens the dragon- sleeping in the dungeons of the past, sometimes, the princess that you were- kissed, and cajoled, in the towers of a, now, deserted castle.

I wanted to write that I want to hibernate but, hide, where? It is tempting to get lost in the word hibernate.

Volcanic emotions erupt and try to mock my libertarian sensibilities. They tell me that I am in the same mudflow where I was, some sort of, aeons ago. They sell the drama, and I try hard to be apathetic as if the heart is no impulsive buyer.

But there is truth to the music playing in the background and I am lured to buy it. Sarah Mclachlan claims innocence though I would not know if she was acquitted but I hope…I hope she made it- whatever that means.