Things Have Changed
Snows are melting here tonight, winds are silent, fading light
My eyes well like a rising tide, my feet will walk the final mile...
Location: the road north
Time: Day 42, the small hours of the morning
Some time long before the dawn I give up trying to sleep. A while ago I tried taking my blankets out to a quiet spot on the living lot and sleeping under the low clouds instead of a canvas roof, but it did no good. I'm not sleeping these days, or night either; there's something riding me, needling me awake each time my eyes half-close. And I know what it is.
There's words itching under my skin, buzzing in my ears like the blackflies by the river. Iblis's words (Do you know yourself, now?), Gaueko's words, (I don't need to humble you; you're doing a far better job of that than I could ever hope to), and now and most of all Lucien's: I think you can resist him, but whether you want to...that one's up to you.
What have I been hiding from, all these years in this veil of flesh: memories, or myself? I haven't had a drink in some days. The world's tilting, but in a different way from drunkenness; it's like the blood coming back into a sleeping limb, like senses I've blocked off for years are opening up again.
I laugh a little to myself - no wonder I drink so much. How else would I have endured so long, as so much less than myself? Damn him (thank him, fall at his feet) for waking me up.
And he himself...I've tried to hide, and I've tried to run, and ended up just where I started. Guess it's time to try something else.
Crawl or fight, Gaeuko said.
I know what I'm doing, when I set my foot on that road north.
I take a quiet route through town, up past the abbey in its quiet grounds. In the almost-dark of the summer night an almost palpable air of peace hangs around it, and for a moment I wonder what would happen if I went in by the gate and lay myself down in the dim green, or under the stone roof where the woman Oya took me in.
But that time is past, and I put the abbey behind me with barely a twinge of regret. There's something like electricity in the still not-yet-morning air. I wonder if he knows I'm coming.
I've been walking forty miles of bad road
If the Bible is right, the world will explode
I've been trying to get as far away from myself as I can
Some things are too hot to touch
The human mind can only stand so much
You can't win with a losing hand.
[Open to Iblis]
My eyes well like a rising tide, my feet will walk the final mile...
Location: the road north
Time: Day 42, the small hours of the morning
Some time long before the dawn I give up trying to sleep. A while ago I tried taking my blankets out to a quiet spot on the living lot and sleeping under the low clouds instead of a canvas roof, but it did no good. I'm not sleeping these days, or night either; there's something riding me, needling me awake each time my eyes half-close. And I know what it is.
There's words itching under my skin, buzzing in my ears like the blackflies by the river. Iblis's words (Do you know yourself, now?), Gaueko's words, (I don't need to humble you; you're doing a far better job of that than I could ever hope to), and now and most of all Lucien's: I think you can resist him, but whether you want to...that one's up to you.
What have I been hiding from, all these years in this veil of flesh: memories, or myself? I haven't had a drink in some days. The world's tilting, but in a different way from drunkenness; it's like the blood coming back into a sleeping limb, like senses I've blocked off for years are opening up again.
I laugh a little to myself - no wonder I drink so much. How else would I have endured so long, as so much less than myself? Damn him (thank him, fall at his feet) for waking me up.
And he himself...I've tried to hide, and I've tried to run, and ended up just where I started. Guess it's time to try something else.
Crawl or fight, Gaeuko said.
I know what I'm doing, when I set my foot on that road north.
I take a quiet route through town, up past the abbey in its quiet grounds. In the almost-dark of the summer night an almost palpable air of peace hangs around it, and for a moment I wonder what would happen if I went in by the gate and lay myself down in the dim green, or under the stone roof where the woman Oya took me in.
But that time is past, and I put the abbey behind me with barely a twinge of regret. There's something like electricity in the still not-yet-morning air. I wonder if he knows I'm coming.
I've been walking forty miles of bad road
If the Bible is right, the world will explode
I've been trying to get as far away from myself as I can
Some things are too hot to touch
The human mind can only stand so much
You can't win with a losing hand.
[Open to Iblis]