And the silence of the shining stone
like the shattering crystal of the poet cries:
"I the enigma undefined,
the error of my age;
the players and the play defamed
that tread a timeless stage.
Ay! both hero and the rake,
of tragedy and of comic parts;
the dirge at many a wake
and the wit that veins the farce."
Oscar Wilde
This layout is an Act of Clawed.
Wednesday, December 04, 2002
goodbye, world!
For Clawed has a new game and won't be seeing too much of you for a while *grin*
The weather outside is cold and grey. The weather inside is warm and grey. Not a great set to choose from.
But it wasn't always this way. There used to be bright, and cheerful, and happy inside. Somehow, they've escaped me. Maybe they got shipped home with the rest of my excess things, stored away for a time when, having forgotten they were ever here, I can find them waiting for me, ready and waiting to surprise me when I least expect it.
Or, just maybe, they're sitting around here, covered in so much dust and grime and unwashed dishes and unwashed laundry and unwished dreams that I can't see them anymore.
I catch a glimpse of one every now and then, lurking in the corners, trying to make themselves known to me. Whevener I go to find it again, though, it's gone.
But the other day, Clarity found me. For one brief moment, driving home, I crested a hill, and there it was. Waiting, just out of my reach but close enough to pull a block away from my vision that I hadn't even realized was there. It was as though the sun had finally broken through the haze that lately has surrounded me and, for a second, showed me what I used to be.
Then clarity was gone, however. The veil dropped before my eyes again. The sun dissappeared.
somehow I'll find it again. this time, I'm digging from the inside.