but for a single drink of water which leaves you wanting more, or the seeking of immunity
The sword of anguish pierces deepest from 3.36, and it's a very strange sort of magic that plays havoc with the mind and heart, this imagined grief that turns too real after a period of drought, or dare I say, abundance.
That music moves men and women alike, that sighing appoggiaturas constrict the heart, that some things are so desperately hard to come by, one fears the reprisal of the old, new dependencies, the birth of addictions that are fast taking over, or already have.
There is so much that I have revisited over the past few days, so much that I have discovered anew, I can scarce take it in. Witnessed change, I have, shy beginnings and lowering of lashes aside, it will be the intangibles that I will inevitably try to quantify.
Which isn't a bad thing, you know - guarding never really is - it just means having found something worthwhile to protect and keep for all time.
I will like to spend my days, as though they are my own, which I mostly end up doing in halves, for duty beckons, and I am answering its clarion call. Soon enough! I am also a veteran procrastinator.