I spent last night talking to the knave. He seems in better spirits, now he can see the end to his wait. He has little patience. But then again, why should the world move faster for him, when it's already veering out of control?! I'm clinging on for dear life as it hurtles along, but I find that if I focus on the moon, it seems to slow a little; and captivated by it's subtle glow, I find a sort of 'Peace' substitute.
I didn't grasp the hang of that last night. The whole beauty of the night thing. I was busy. If I can't see the sun, maybe I should go...
He knows that I'm hurting, and he feels terrible, but he can never see my face as I spill my thoughts onto that endless whiter-than-white scroll. If he could see my tears of black, he'd feel worse, and I can't have that. Not now that I've come this far. Not now that I see 'her' on his horizon.
Do you know, that everyday is the first of the rest of your life?
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