2004-04-22 - 4:41 p.m.
So life continues on. Time passes, change occurs. A shift in mood, a step into a lake, lit only by distant moonlight. The lake is big and dark, put I really need to take a swim. I am drying out.
Poetry runs and hides as I carry Thoreau's stick for beating life, and put it to a better use. April is for poetry. I am not: but we try to reconcile these facts.
I will share the literary pain with those who requested it, when the month is up, and any others who crave cleansing punishment so badly.
I have been lasy of late. I accomplish little. I stay in motion, but the motion is that of a mouse in a wheel. I read occasionally. I play video games when I can. I restart my exercise regime, and hope next week will bring its completeness back into my life. I await the second comming of the automobile, in which what was once torn asunder is rendered complete, and running. No one was hurt. I look into the waters of the future, and piece together paths to take. I look at where they lead, and where they could lead. I don't find any that seem special in a good way. I look some more. I look back over the rocky terrain I have been over, and I marvel at my bruised and aching feet.
You missed the my Children's game crystalizing a future path, which will either entertain the players, or leave me alone, to muse on it until a time comes for it.
You missed the Shadow's Edge being haunted by ghosts and nightmares straight from Hell. You missed the soothing words. You missed the hissing of water hitting a hot skillet.
You missed a busy, but somehow quiet time.
Love will graduate. I will start school again. Time will go on, and everything will change.
Same old same old.
