Jul 01, 2005 23:19
Today's events render me sated in a way that I have not experienced in some time.
A little child can never kill this clean, this way. I feel like me today -- tell me, do you feel the same, Ma Bella? Come with me, my love, like our a little child, like the homeless, restless, known to none. You wanted a haven, a place to hide, so I gave you an alibi and took you inside, but a rock and a hard place is all that awaited me.
Bella, remember my face in the fire, in the reptile house?
I held out my arm and my scar started to show, howling for the glory of the pureblooded; do not despair, for shame I know not -- it is but the taste of ash on my tongue, yes?
We served an old man in a dry season, Ma Bella -- a lighthouse keeper in the desert sun. See a body and dream of the dead days, following lost and blind, and tomorrow is hard to glimpse. Doesn't it seem like twenty-fives of promises and give me more? Scenes of things heard previously.
What do we need to make our world come alive?
Bella, we have served an old man in a dry season. First, and last, and always.
First, and last, a