Rest

And in the course of our lives, who is to say that man is borne to ill-fate? For in our midst are those who love imperfectly, but nonetheless, love. Though each day we are trapped in our individual swarms, and when the work is done, we can finally rest in arms, rest in sheets of amber and crystal spring. Cool is our November. And harmless is our spring. We can drift on the summer's wind, searching for that nest of warmth. Captured by the light of heaven, rich like the song of the robin, that sings "I do, I do." One day, child, one day, we will sing as they do. And we will be free, caught by the whirls of the south wind, then ripping through to reach the glorious gold of the sky. And I will be with you as the darkness robs us of our sight, and age creeps to take what was ours, then is no more. Torrents can steal our dreams, tempests can rip our hopes, but love was never ours, and thus can never be taken away.

But now, we must rest. It is time to rest.



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Ok. Lots to blog about, but shan't now. Time's going by so fast, I can't keep up with it.
But my eyes are opened, and I see now. Fatigue is but fatigue. I won't, though. I won't.

That, my dears, is how I think now. Vague, isn't it?


I miss someone terribly now, but I'm not angry, nope. I'm not depressed either. I'm just... missing someone. And its surreal when I think about it. Very surreal.



I have a boyfriend.



Gosh... I feel like I'm nine again. Except then, I only wanted a guy to sing A Whole New World with me.