| Current mood: |  blah |
ramblings that never reach the right eyes
something in my head akin to a story... but I cannot find the voice... perhaps first person... just not finding the right place to get it out. I heard it in the car... the siren song... but now the mermaid's voice is silent. perhaps I'll hear it again enough to get her tale out. it's far too beautiful to be lost.
I always find myself in her books... either in a girl fighting for her brothers... or in another falling in love with a man with the mark of a raven... or in a small sorcerer's daughter with a limp who feels lost and alone. and I wonder if our strangeness will ever even out into smiles... or if our peace will only waste itself away in cryptic thoughts we cannot share... built up resentments and temper tantrums... bitter moods and distant feelings... each assuming that the other has taken care of the middle... that night will look after dusk... or day will look after dusk... no-one noticing twilight's propensity to wander off alone... for night and day live in their own worlds, possessed of sun and moon; planetary bodies whose ebbs and tides are more closely linked these days than that of the merger between. for twilight never had a planetary body. more and more being in the middle is less about belonging in two places and not belonging anywhere. when strife and sorrow find us again will we have squandered all our rest? will I waste away my own gifts on neurosis... shrinking and fading away, forgetting to be noticed... until they come to find me an echoed memory only... this flesh long gone elsewhere... will I ever find a reason within myself to stay... lacking that anchor of selfless compassion that acts as a preventative or others. i almost feel cruel saying that I do not have one... but in truth it is not because I do not love you enough to stall... but because you do not love me enough to stall me. your path would not pause for me... not break for me... not stay for me... nor mine for yours. and these days it almost makes sense in irony... that a path not taken to prevent one small boy from harm might in truth be best taken to cause him to live life. sometimes the darkness is a better gift than life. for honestly... if one bright little raven had not awakened us... where would we be? could not then this girl in gesture, return the same gift to another magistrate?
perhaps the equinox will make things better... restore some semblance of sanity to me... make me less on knife edge...
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