Saturday, March 10, 2012

Gæð a wyrd swa hio scel!

So close to death, Maman must have felt free then and ready to live it all again. Nobody, nobody had the right to cry over her. And I felt ready to live it all again too. As if the blind rage had washed me clean, rid me of hope; for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world.

The world is indifferent to your struggles. It will neither impede nor improve upon your life. If you struggle, it is up to you and you alone to overcome your obstacles.

Get ready. It is almost time. Time for the invincible summer. The winter came and went, the Ghost of Man terrorized us with tentacles and tree branches and the sheer incomprehensibility of itself. But it will be summer soon.

Our wills and fates do so contrary run 
That our devices still are overthrown; 
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.

Get ready. It's almost time to dree your weird.

Make a beot. Create an impossible promise. Get ready.

1 comment:

  1. An impossible promise? Fine. I'll find a way to spell a bit of jewelry, perhaps, to make a single Fear's effects null and void. Maybe I have a witchy friend somewhere that'll be willing to help.