I can see it so clearly, the villain monk’s final moments, even though I’ve not watched the movie in years.
Poppets and Patterns
It’s said often enough to be a cliché, but I truly don’t believe in coincidences.
It Has No Future But Itself
Pain has an element of blank, Emily Dickinson said.
We All Go to Heaven
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.
My Longing Shall Gather 
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