Where no one else has gone before
Bones on the Mountain, Part I, Word Shepherd
The light that cut through the storm did not keep to the pliant road. It circled, a beacon shone from below, moving much too fast to be affixed to a human. It circled again, twice more, and finally abandoned its pattern, roving with what seemed a desperate intent. The light was searching, searching, but could not find what it called out for. It landed on me only for a second, the blue light flooding my alcove, pinning my huddled shadow to the wet rock. As the restless sweep continued, the light skirted a path heading down.
Cheek to Cheek, nightsbrightdays
Fall of my junior year, whispers started trickling around the school. That spring, Mr. Kirsch was going to start a rugby club. Did I know what rugby was? Not really. Did I have any concept of how to play? Nope. But the idea of playing on a team again lit me up.
This was not quite a dream, although it was lucid and sleep-induced and sublimely nocturnal. It functioned more as a premonition, a vision of the uncertainty of my own young life, and a reflection of the chaos inherent to the universe. It could have been a warning about the nature of human nature, of time and the cyclicality of lives we lead. It could have been anything but it could hardly have been a dream, because I was there twice, living inside the dream as if it were my own future.
I’m paying attention now, passionately pensive
My ignorance about life in the military properly evidenced, I am willing to acknowledge that my opinions, my worries, my thoughts on the matter are wholly subject to the people and conversations that pass by my way. Nevertheless, as I stared into the faces of these young people, my heart crumbled into a prayer for their protection. Not merely for their limbs and bodies to be kept from the dangers of war, but for their hearts and their minds.
no one, m: art, et cetera
Going Rogue, iwritetoberidofthings
…but pretty regularly I have this unpleasant discussion in my head that’s similar to two parents discussing whether or not to let their 5’1″ asthmatic son try out for the NBA.