Faces of Met-Hesed
Aug. 25th, 2015 12:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
helarxeToday I shaved my face for the first time in two years. Going from the "Taliban captive" style to an interpretation of a Guy Fawkes trollfacial hair, at least for the next couple of days, before likely going back to complete neatness.
Last week I had a limerent dream for the first time since 2011. Even within the narrative of that secondary creation it felt archaic, nearly atavistic, a pagan antiquity (its vital meaning long reneged upon) to smuggle drugs within. Even the thick sweetness of longing had become somehow humorous and inappropriate, like children's chocolate milk.
My fingers trace ghost strands of wisdom. There is a place of leaves from red through orange to yellow, like the towers of Borges's Emperor; where I'll never be -- not once? not again? It will never be given to me to know which. But Loss is a faithful ship; it will bear me on regardless.
Last week I had a limerent dream for the first time since 2011. Even within the narrative of that secondary creation it felt archaic, nearly atavistic, a pagan antiquity (its vital meaning long reneged upon) to smuggle drugs within. Even the thick sweetness of longing had become somehow humorous and inappropriate, like children's chocolate milk.
My fingers trace ghost strands of wisdom. There is a place of leaves from red through orange to yellow, like the towers of Borges's Emperor; where I'll never be -- not once? not again? It will never be given to me to know which. But Loss is a faithful ship; it will bear me on regardless.
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Date: 2015-08-29 04:00 am (UTC)