rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


Rain waited for nightfall, quickly dampened everything, then turned to mist. It drifts, silent itself, revealed to the ear only by the intermittent drops falling from the trees, though now and them more rain falls, though its sound never rises above a soft whisper, as of rustling grass. I walk in this damp darkness and listen, but it reveals no secrets thought can grasp. Some verse is there which cannot be translated to ordinary language. It passes quickly, and only mist remains, gradually soaking my hair until I feel the drops running down my face and the back of my neck like beads of sweat. What change has this exertion wrought? Something broken down, perhaps, like soil slowly eroding to form some new landscape yet undiscerned. I return home to sleep, and let the water do its work.

Recent Posts from This Journal

  • Reset Forty-Nine, Day Seven

    Monday I remembered I had an artichoke, so I cooked it and ate it instead of dinner. It was very tasty, what with all the butter I put on it, and I…

  • Reset Forty-Nine, Day Six

    Sunday got away, as Sundays are wont to do, and I had some naps and some sore feet and some flights of fancy and, eventually, some leftover chili.…

  • Reset Forty-Nine, Day Five

    There are big empty spots in my brain where stuff disappears, never to be found again. It ought to be comparable to other things, but what they might…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.