Week 3, Michaelmas Term: Flown Away!

This week is no more; it is gone to meet its Maker; it is an EX-WEEK!

And unfortunately, there's not much to say about the poor fellow. He lived a good, though much too short, life. He never made much of himself, but lived quietly at home, trying his best to be cheerful despite the general tension in the family due to the stress of work. And now that he is gone, the weirdly warm weather has left with him, and the great gusts of grey winds blow in to seize us all and chill us to the bone. He is no more! He quite exploded, actually; and it was about time he made up his mind to do it, too.

Good riddance!

Anyway, yes, much too much in a bizarre mood to have anything real to say, not that there is much real to say, anyway. I could write a book on how much I love the libraries, but I think we've just about killed that topic. It is an EX-TOPIC! even if it does continue to cry, "I'm not dead yet!" I think we've had about enough.

And now for something completely different.

Along the edge of wilderness of green and gold and brown
The running water flows, and ceaselessly
The steady stream of trickling ripples down
To meet a paragon of pathways, meet
And cross and overlap where no one sees
The point. An ideal point, so cautiously
Removed from view; the running stream forbids
That glance, that apprehensive look so neatly
Cast upon the sacred apex, yet hid,
I alone, among the leaves, encouraged
By the chilling breath of dismal doubt
And fear, I leapt to great conclusions, seized
The day, and ran to find if I alone
Were able, among the rest, to stand above
And look below on windswept fields
Of empty green, and others full of golden sands,
Where no man had dared explore before.
I alone. I stood, I looked, I wept to see
The emptiness; and no one knew.
I wept, and would have cast my eyes
Upon some lesser good, some lighter fate,
I’d change the beauty for a calmer glory,
But another song swept past my ear
Encouraged me to look another way and seek
A different view; could I not meet
The paragon of pathways, meet and glance
Along the point of ideal truth and see
The running waters flow and trickle down
The ceaseless stream, the landscape
Of unapproachable dreams?


A bit of something I threw together during one of my more distracted moments. It flowed very easily, which was pleasant, but I'm really not sure what it means. (And NO, it wasn't even a sugar high! I think it was more just a general unwinding ... and a little lack of sleep ... !) But enjoy anyway!

Hopefully next week will bring with him some more exciting adventural presents; I'm afraid the last poor fellow was caught unawares and dragged away before he could even consider leaving me anything. I've become such a spoiled child :)