ah words. how i long to have power over you. to be able to weave you into perfectly intricate knits of expression to wrap around my body and keep me warm. my body, yes, could be comforted by such tiny, delicate, finite creations but my soul i will not speak for. my soul has no comfort apart from the Nonearth, Noncreated, Nonconsumed but Allconsuming Creator. with hearts breaking and beating and eyes flashing and seeing all around me my soul shall never find rest.
rest. words. power. comfort. soul.
i'm slipping past these letters between the black and white shapes into dreams and nonconscious state of being. strings and woodwinds are serenading this departure from reality as i move these feeble fingers in tune with the rise and fall of the sonata. beethoven, take me to a better place than here.
goodnightdarkdreamer.
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