I looked up into the night, and there, swimming in the deepest abyss above, I saw the stars. And I thought to myself, "self, I wish I were up there, swimming like a little bony fish, among the stars, nibbling their silver light like a bonescale snapper would nibble my withered toes..".
But such is not to be, not without a really big rocket, some advanced technical knowledge, and possibly a genetically altered raptor pilot. The evolved lizard is a optional feature, but I hear they're all the rage now. Angry angry rage lizards.
My mind is wandering again, wandering among those stars. Why are we here and they there? What gives them the right to float above us, removed from all our struggles and troubles, serene in the knowledge that we can never throw a rock far enough to hit one in the eye? Such arrogance, such foolishness! It would have to be a really big rock too, and while I am getting really good at throwing things (I hit a leaf on a tree with a person tied to it the other day with my knife .... eventually) I still think I need to do some more training before I throw a rock that big.
For now now now though, I lie on my back at night, and I watch them. Carefully. So as to not miss anything. I'm trying to learn how they work. So far I have surmised that they're nothing like goblins. And they're not usually prone to falling. I saw some falling once, but it was just a giant chicken. And they're not bight enough to read by, but they do tell me stories.
Like the one about the one star who fell in love with another star and they chased each other across the sky for a generation, neither one ever able to catch the other, always whirling, until one day, one of them decided it was time to stop the sky. This madness, this need to bring all things to a cease in the name of adoration terrified the other star, and while it still loved the first star, it knew this love would doom them all, and so it banished the first star to the furthest reaches of the day, where it would exist alone, burning with fury and madness, and casting it's flaming heat of desire upon all things. That's how the sun was born, and why it scorches if you get too close to it, just like love.
I used to love too, I had a love, I think. A true love. But unlike the sun, my love did not abandon me to my madness, did not leave me, alone, and aflame forever in the sky. My love was taken from me. Taken by something. I remember red. And then dark. I don't like thinking about that though. So I tell stories.
And practice lifting bigger rocks.
But such is not to be, not without a really big rocket, some advanced technical knowledge, and possibly a genetically altered raptor pilot. The evolved lizard is a optional feature, but I hear they're all the rage now. Angry angry rage lizards.
My mind is wandering again, wandering among those stars. Why are we here and they there? What gives them the right to float above us, removed from all our struggles and troubles, serene in the knowledge that we can never throw a rock far enough to hit one in the eye? Such arrogance, such foolishness! It would have to be a really big rock too, and while I am getting really good at throwing things (I hit a leaf on a tree with a person tied to it the other day with my knife .... eventually) I still think I need to do some more training before I throw a rock that big.
For now now now though, I lie on my back at night, and I watch them. Carefully. So as to not miss anything. I'm trying to learn how they work. So far I have surmised that they're nothing like goblins. And they're not usually prone to falling. I saw some falling once, but it was just a giant chicken. And they're not bight enough to read by, but they do tell me stories.
Like the one about the one star who fell in love with another star and they chased each other across the sky for a generation, neither one ever able to catch the other, always whirling, until one day, one of them decided it was time to stop the sky. This madness, this need to bring all things to a cease in the name of adoration terrified the other star, and while it still loved the first star, it knew this love would doom them all, and so it banished the first star to the furthest reaches of the day, where it would exist alone, burning with fury and madness, and casting it's flaming heat of desire upon all things. That's how the sun was born, and why it scorches if you get too close to it, just like love.
I used to love too, I had a love, I think. A true love. But unlike the sun, my love did not abandon me to my madness, did not leave me, alone, and aflame forever in the sky. My love was taken from me. Taken by something. I remember red. And then dark. I don't like thinking about that though. So I tell stories.
And practice lifting bigger rocks.
Edited by Dolmund on 2/24/2011 9:03 AM PST
