~ on the first day he took me to the river ~

he did so. there were far wilder flowers at its eastern bank.

just before leaving my room, i grabbed a book for a random fortune-telling. for it was the first day. the book was collected works of John Milton, lines chanting the future were:

In all his lineaments, though in his face

The glimpses of his Father's glory shine

indeed, a joyful reunion

how music snaps into my lifeline just perfectly

almost esoteric coincidences

tear the pages out
and write them faster

~ the stars we are ~

you have three life lines, dear

months have been passing by and there were hours when i would wonder. in those moments i would see myself as both kai and gerda. walking forward, inward, upward with a sting of ice nested in my heart, twinkling sometimes when the heart beat harder. or, as gerda, searching the ice-stung boy as far as to the core of a glacier. through any form of water, solid or steaming. constantly

then, two days ago, glimpsing at my hands after an evening with a prosaic defrosting war with a fridge - i walked and i looked, and blinked, looked again, smiled silently. in front of me there was a pair of hands cut with ice. discreetly

blood is thicker

blue of other reasons