![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(First of all, for those folks who want to see the big photo of the Anpw plushie that ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
alhandra gave me, it's here. Small photo is current userpic.)
. . . well, that's an appropriate bit of music to come up as I'm starting to write this entry. As always, with the funny.
Grey jackal to the right of me; black jackal to the left of me.
And the invitation to go off into the dark, to get at the undersides of things, to go walkabout and look at things from a different angle. Look at things on a slant, is the way the phrase goes in my head, a Cherryh line of its own self gone wandering off and into my thoughts without its caliban guardian. Or maybe these are the calibans in a different form, black and grey, possibility and guide.
It has to be an invitation; going off into the dark is not a simple thing, something to be thought of frivolously, something to do on a sovereign's demand.
lstone and I were swapping song lyrics earlier, like we often do. And I started "Alone You Breathe", for no reason other than whimsy.
Could we then reclaim a dream refused? After time and loss and change, is there going back to the place there was once a gateway? Can a heart wakened to the voice of possibility be silent without being unmade, unnamed, unraveled? "If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice," I quoted earlier.
A while ago I had an idea for a tattoo image, down the centre of my breastbone, with a little curl around my left breast: the jackal, stretched up, standing to study my heart, to protect my heart. Maybe I'll get it someday. And I reach up to take the hands of the grey jackal on the right, and the black jackal on the left, and I step off the path with the jolly little dance step of no longer being off to see the wizard.
I stand here believing that in the dark there is a clue.
alhandra gave me, it's here. Small photo is current userpic.). . . well, that's an appropriate bit of music to come up as I'm starting to write this entry. As always, with the funny.
Grey jackal to the right of me; black jackal to the left of me.
And the invitation to go off into the dark, to get at the undersides of things, to go walkabout and look at things from a different angle. Look at things on a slant, is the way the phrase goes in my head, a Cherryh line of its own self gone wandering off and into my thoughts without its caliban guardian. Or maybe these are the calibans in a different form, black and grey, possibility and guide.
It has to be an invitation; going off into the dark is not a simple thing, something to be thought of frivolously, something to do on a sovereign's demand.
lstone and I were swapping song lyrics earlier, like we often do. And I started "Alone You Breathe", for no reason other than whimsy.- Standing on a dream isn't what it seems
Could we then reclaim a dream refused
Knowing what we know could we let it go
Realizing that all the years are used . . .
Could we then reclaim a dream refused? After time and loss and change, is there going back to the place there was once a gateway? Can a heart wakened to the voice of possibility be silent without being unmade, unnamed, unraveled? "If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice," I quoted earlier.
A while ago I had an idea for a tattoo image, down the centre of my breastbone, with a little curl around my left breast: the jackal, stretched up, standing to study my heart, to protect my heart. Maybe I'll get it someday. And I reach up to take the hands of the grey jackal on the right, and the black jackal on the left, and I step off the path with the jolly little dance step of no longer being off to see the wizard.
I stand here believing that in the dark there is a clue.
