"He is strong! If I die, I have to go before him, and he will ask me, 'What is the riddle of steel?' If I don't know it, he will cast me out of Valhalla and laugh at me. That's Crom. Strong on his Mountain."
Many thoughts on this sleepy, sunny, brisk Sunday, which just so happens to also be the Day of Mothers. Love ya, Ma!
I have been away for a while, sailing, but also in a more metaphorical sense. Maybe I am closer to my return. Who knows? I just wonder what shores are darkened when these districts are vacant. And I wonder what sort of jokes are there. I can only guess how the women dress, when out hunting and smiling. Or how they might move when that special, close time is taken. It is interesting but not to be known, except in half glimpses between sleep and awake. That dream mixing with real state.
There are sharp little catches to barb the flesh and its needs.
Staying in the borders of boredom isn’t as bad as I had hoped.
For the record, nothing ever leaves the shelves of Want.
Ever.
You can adjust. You can hide. You can say no. But you cant stop wanting.
But that is ok, too. That is just part of life. All of us, seeking that echo filled peace of before. Again. Like remembering summers early breeze while trudging through the snow.
More. Much more. Thinking faster than I can write. It seems overly easy to walk away from a feeling. Easier than it should be. Maybe they are not the feelings as I have labeled them. Or maybe they are, but with out roots. Just stems, leaf, and flower. Nice in the sun but blow over once the sun moves behind the clouds.
Time will tell. If someone listens.
Oh.
And the Skin.
Let it all in.
