I just realized that I haven't added a single word to this journal in... ages. To be fair, I haven't logged into this account for at least that long.

So, here you go: words. One after another. See you in another year!

The Image on the Sand

A line and an arc,

Upon the barren desert sand.

An image drawn of dream and dust,

A mural across a land.

A relic, a forgotten piece of art,

Of some empire of lore,

Awaiting its fate,

By the travellers ignored.

Waiting, watching eagerly,

The ever-changing art of dust,

For the day when it’s blown away,

By a ( Read more... )

Lies of the Ever-Living

Offered before me

Are two lies;

And I must choose one

If I am to survive.

One easier to swallow,

The other sweeter;

One would wound me

The other make me a dreamer.

The dream, though fair,

Would, in time, cause me pain.

But that I would gladly risk,

For the moment of peace I would gain.

The nightmare ( Read more... )

Empire of Stars

A silent song,

A wistful word,

For an empire of stars.

A gentle slope,

A gleam of hope,

For an empire of stars.

A lonely knight,

Sets his sight,

Upon the road,

To the Empire of Stars.

In a suit of steel,

He rides with zeal,

To look once more,

Upon his love - the Empire of Stars.

On a night pitch black,
( Read more... )

No Ends

There shall be no end,

Not now, my friend,

For this field we must contend,

Till the night ends,

And a new dawn comes around the bend.

There shall be no end,

Not now, my friend,

The puzzle we will, some day, comprehend,

But until then, this fort we must defend.

There can be no end,

Not to our stories, nor to our songs, my ( Read more... )

For the first time in nearly a decade, I'm redrawing the basic layout of my room.

This is, however, painful. Not so much because I'm particularly attached to the original design, but because some of the pieces of furniture are attached - by years of dust and Coke - to the floor and to other pieces of furniture! The cabling alone required nearly four ( Read more... )

I'm fairly certain I'm not going to die on my bike.

Mainly because I'm also certain I'll die hitting the ground after an impact makes me fly off my bike. If the impact doesn't kill me the oncoming traffic will.

Boy, I love biking!

"This is my journal. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

My journal is certainly not my best friend. It is also not my life. I do not have to master it as I must master my life.

My journal, without me, is useless. Without my journal, however, I am not useless. I must write my journal true, except for those occasions when I feel like lying ( Read more... )