Jun 10 2008
Reposted, with minor edits, from February 2008
The story of a once-proud warrior
with one last battle left to fight.
Ulysses
by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
IT LITTLE PROFITS that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Match’d with an aged wife,
I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race,
Aug 22 2007
(This is a revisit to a diary I wrote last year. We’ve passed the peak of the Perseids for this year, but if you have a clear night, you will see random meteor showers. If you are patient. I watched at least three fall by tonight, between the clouds, as they chased the dark aside. Make a wish now.)
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From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things |
Unchained stars, released from the bonds of eternity, flailing and burning their way through the universe, past our eyes, but visible if we but keep eyes wide open, staring outward, staring upward. Sometimes staring slightly off-center of what we want to see. Looking at stars is like that – sometimes you cannot look directly at a star to really see it.
