wordspill: phoenixAnd there is a fwoom and a flash that blinds me for an instant and oh the birdsong accompanying it is so much sweeter than before. Then my sight rushes back, vision is restored, and I stare up into the sky where my firebird wings its way to the sun.
It was yeards and years and years ago that I first saw it flying away. I was only five, still a child, barely able to comprehend the beauty of what I saw. But for a days and days after, I have been told, I filled many many many pieces of paper with gold and red and a bird on its unerring course towards the brilliant sun.
It made its nest in my mind, coloured my dreams for years and years. I was drawn to fire- any fire, great or small- and it could not bestir me from trying, however desperately, to see that bird flying away into the heart of the flame.
By the age of fourteen I had discovered a little tale of a bird called a pheonix, whose feathers were the colour of fire, who lived and burned and died, only to be born from the ashes.
I hd al
wordspill: I don't know...I dont know what autumn is.
People say its coolness and crispness,
Falling leaves in a kaleidoscope,
Halloween and Thanksgiving,
Bluer skies and less warmth.
I dont know what autumn is.
September, October, November?
These are only months to me.
I dont associate them with seasons.
Time passes, marked by holidays more than seasons.
Leaves fall all year round, yellow, green, red.
Coldness and crispness are the stuff of monsoon days with chill winds,
Times when we curl up in our beds, clutch our thin blankets round ourselves,
Attempting to gain some measure of warmth pathetically.
Blue? The skies are ever blue, flooded with puffs of white.
The sun shines, fierce and hot.
I dont know what autumn is.
Halloween is a novelty, an excuse for adults and not-quite-adults to party,
A day filled with tales of ghosties and ghoulies for the younger ones.
There is no Thanksgiving here- why should there be?
We never lived in alien terrain far from home, years upon years ago
wordspill: coming homeIm running away from you, from this, all this pain and fear and insecurity. Into the dark night forest, away, away, until I cannot see my hand in front of me, and I dont know which way to turn: forward, left, right? All I know is that Im not going back.
Something scratches me in this blackness, and I slow, puffing, panting, the heat of my exertions coursing through my veins. Its not as if I would like to stay, but anywheres better than what Ive left.
Finally I come out in to a clearing under a starry sky- its so beautiful that I forget everything, sit down under the lone tree in the middle and shut my eyes, exhausted.
Waking, I look around, blinking blearily in the harsh daylight. I stand up and look at the tree that sheltered me. It looks familiar, but it cant be, for Ive never ventured into the forest before. I look around the clearing, and its so very, very odd, like something from a snapshot Ive seen before. I know e
wordspill: down the staircasesWhen you spend your days tramping up and down staircases, in and out your apartment, to and from the gardens where you work, you always get so exhausted that you never notice anything around you. Just keep your eyes on your feet, stepping down, shuffling forward, keeping your balance, never falling. Always look down, dont look around.
But when you see feet passing you- feet on the wrong side of steps- you tend to look up. Or at least forward.
I did. I saw someone horizontal to my vertical, not falling backward in anyway. Most disconcerting.
That day, as always, I ought to have been working. Instead I found myself continuously making excuses, dashing inside on some pretext or other, examining the stairs and the walls and the drop that lay beyond the railings. A wondrous world I saw, made of fleeting glances and half-remembered peeks that preoccupied me even through my work. When at last it came time to return home, I was not as weary as usual. Thus I decided to return to my
look at it this waylet's look at it this way-
tracing the lines and angles
of your face, your cold face
is not the way I want to remember you.
I'm looking for a spark of you
that has blown away, died out,
a little less of my heart
eaten away, little by little
I'm tilting my head
to get a different perspective
on this goodbye.
maybe it's not the best
way to handle things,
but, sweet love, it's all
that I can do
to remember you.
forgetting is out of the question.
I'll not stay to see others
bid you farewell,
send you on with Charon to cross the Styx.
look, my heart is almost gone.
take what's left with you
to remember me by, so
I'll always remember you,
tracing the hole where
my heart used to be,
craning my neck to see
the absence of you
in my chest.
wordspill: someday we'll meetMy days with you, lady, are nonexistent.
From afar, from a distance, always, I see you,
And you see me,
But our paths never cross.
It seems inevitable that we shall never meet.
We travel together, but never lodging at the same inns,
Never pausing to water our horses at the same places,
Yet we travel on at the same pace,
Matching each other step for step, trot for trot, canter for canter.
Sometimes at night I look in the mirror, but theres only you.
Theres never me.
I heard from a Duke of Empress Y, whose path crossed yours and then mine,
That your reflection in the mirror is me.
Thats good, I think.
It shows that someday well meet.
Thats the hope in my heart.
Ive watched how
The words you pass to a stranger,
The angled points and the gradient of the conversation,
Inevitably are passed onto me.
But you are valued less than me,
Your rank below mine,
And thus the lords and ladies of Y meet you before they meet me.
I can never send my own message to you-
wordspill: please leaveWondering- why are you still here? So many years have passed- it seems that so many lives have passed. Year by year by year Im so old now, and I still cant forget you.
You never even existed. Youre a part of my imagination. Why do you still stick inside my mind?
I was a lonely child, I know. Never allowed outside, never allowed to play with other children- when I finally got to school, I was so awkward and so afraid of others that they eventually just left me alone. The little girl with the gloomy face.
But in place of companions, there was you. My shadow friend, my sister soul. Maybe its not the best way to describe you, but its true. You were the one beside me when I couldnt go anywhere, so you took me to places I had never dreamed of. My best only friend.
But you wouldnt let me go. In school I was so lonely- trying to reach out to others but they wouldnt reach out to me. They were too afraid of the fingers nervously stretched tow
CAPSTARA WEEK: TWDIHDont worry, Mommy, Daddy! Me an Harukill make a really good dinner! Tsukiko chirped, dashing out of the dining room. A distant yelp indicated that Katara would have to heal someone in the near future.
Remind me again why were letting them make our anniversary dinner, instead of the servants? Zuko murmured in an undertone to his wife. Katara rolled her eyes.
Dont you think its nice of them to offer? she asked, shaking her head.
Offering is one thing; accepting is another. As a smell drifted into the room, he wrinkled his nose, adding: Tonight, we dine in hell.