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it's not that his life passes to the shadow—
but a tipping happens, as in an hourglass.
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Created on 2014-04-29 03:28:57 (#2245694), last updated 2019-02-10 (370 weeks ago)
111 comments received, 697 comments posted
12 Journal Entries, 3 Tags, 1 Memory, 77 Icons Uploaded
| Name: | vax'ildan. |
|---|---|
| Website: | art. |
 V A X ' I L D A N | There is a white stone cliff over a dropping slope sliced along with bare trees In the center of the cliff is a round dry fountain of polished stone. By seizing my whole body up as I clench my hand I am able to open the fountain into a drain, revealing below it the sky, the trees, a brown and uncertain ground. This is how my heart works, you see? This is how love works? Have some sympathy for the great spasms with which I must open myself to love and close again, and open. And if I leapt into the fountain, there is just no telling: I might sever myself clean, or crack the gold bloom of my head, and I don't know what uncertain ground I might fold on like a sack. — max ritvo |
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