I Know

"And when the crowd becomes your burden
And you've early closed your curtains
I'll wait by the backstage door
While you try to find
The lines to speak your mind
And pry it open, hoping for an encore

And if it gets too late
For me to wait
For you to find you love me, and tell me so
It's ok, don't need to say it."

-- I Know by Fiona Apple



I fell asleep this afternoon listening to her. This song lulled me to bittersweet slumber. Much needed, after all, it had been 24 hours of being awake since 2pm the other day and a chunk of that waking period was devoted solely to analyzing the permutations of 3.142857 ...

It's not morose in the sense that I realize past the highs and lows of being on Prothiaden, the journey continues through a new series of emotional landscapes. I feel I'm at the foot of the 25th mountain beside a wonderful volcanic lake. Pristine. Calm. Waiting for me to bathe in. I could, yet I fear the sulfur might kill me. I might die in the burning water. Would you if you knew the water could kill?


So I tried to dip my hands in, making little ripples of consciousness
just enough to spell out my name, the name of boredom.

The concentric circles reach out north. They meet endings around the shore.
These are rings I can never wear.

The ripples crosshatch, connect, yet the waters inevitably keep their peace.
They become serene again.


I see myself in the faint reflection, but that is not who I am.
I have no face. I am the wind that disturbs the peace.