I wonder sometimes if I’ve had a single incarnation in which I was emotionally strong from the beginning, or if it’s always something I have to fight for until my metaphorical hands are bloody.
I Have a Mouth, and I Cannot Scream.
You could have drawn a line dividing up my childhood at around my eleventh year.
The Old Man and the Beginning of Death
There is a story I once learned, one that I told myself again and again, but with so many tales filling the world, it got pushed out of my head.
Losing the Horizon
I like to think some part of me, the immortal part of me that feels and remembers beyond what the flesh is capable of, sees to the end of all things.
The Stone-Sleeper’s Lament
Cut from The Happiness to Sleep for length purposes.
Souvent Me Souviens
I remember often the golden childhoods of this life and the last. Continue reading “Souvent Me Souviens”
L’Appel du Vide
Life begins with a long stare into the darkness.
What Is Sacred
“In the fairy tale, an incomprehensible happiness rests upon an incomprehensible condition. A box is opened and all evils fly out. A word is forgotten and cities perish. A lamp is lit and love flies away. An apple is eaten and the hope of God is gone.” G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy
I was asked once what I love, and this was qualified by, what to you is sacred?
Walk Into the Light.
I used to dream of it…
When I go to the scaffold, it’s always alone.
