#thousand incarnations of closeness and distance
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the way dick says "jason was real. flesh and blood. (he was your son.)" [batman #436] and years later he is depicted as the one hallucinating jason [secret files and origins: nightwing] breaks my heart (in a good way.)
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after my brother’s death, i reflect on the illiad // secret files and origins: nightwing // batman #416 // nightwing #62
#please read the whole poem. it’s brilliant#thousand incarnations of closeness and distance#jason todd#dick grayson#web weaving#dc comics
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♣ myriam
send ♣ + a character name. i’ll bold everything they feel toward your character:
I like you // I love you // You’re one of my best friends // You’re like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // I’d kill you if I got the chance // I want you to like me // I’m scared of you // I would adopt you // I’d date you // I’d sleep with you // I’d marry you // I’m worried about you // You confuse me // You’re annoying // I pity you // I respect you // I trust you // I feel protective of you // I’d invite you with me to parties // I’d lend you my money // I’d borrow your money // You’re good-looking // I’m suspicious of you // I’m hiding something from you // You’re fun // You’re boring // I’m upset with you // You’re nice // You’re mean // I’m envious of you // You’re smart // You’re stupid // I look up to you // I think you’re a (much) better person than me // I think I’m a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I wish I’d never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you better
( @myriamas )
#dastan: answered#( myriam allyrion )#( dastan & myriam — we flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance )
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Pretzel
Steve Harrington runs an animal shelter with his friend and fellow veterinary Robin.
They have a joke between them: they often have to take in poor unfortunate abandoned pets, and they used to name them after the last thing Steve ate. All started years ago, when Robin came in with a rescued parrot and asked Steve how they should name it, who distractedly answered “Montecristo,” pointing at the half sandwich on his desk. Montecristo has been the shelter mascot since then and Robin, after laughing out loud for a good minute, declared the tradition set up.
He finds a carton box this day on the clinic door, and there are Pretzel, Brownie and Caesar (salad), Steve’s lunch he just ate in the cafeteria at the corner. They are so tiny they can easily rest in Steve’s hands, they have to be bottle fed every four hours for some day until they can eat alone, and the red Pretzel is the real incarnation of the very Satan.
This fluffy demon is able to eat the entire prescription book on Robin’s desk, he learned how to open his cage at night and he plots new pranks everyday, bribing his sibling with the delicious treats Steve hides in his drawers.
The kitty is on a shelf, adjusting his bottom to the distance, and then…
“Robin! The demon jumped on my head! Come and catch him!”
Robin runs in the room, laughing out loud. She takes the furious, hissing kitty and returns him in the cage, locking it with the complicated system of chains, sticks and duct tape they invented to keep him in.
“It’s funny, he seems to attack only you,” Robin laughed, checking the scratches on Steve’s neck.
“He hated me. I bottle fed him and he hates me,” whimpers Steve.
“Welcome to parenting,” Robin laughed again, disinfecting him.
A few days later, Pretzel is missing.
“Where is the little demon? The cage is closed!” Rambled Robin, inspected the shelf.
The little demon has been secretly and patiently breaking the bottom of the cage, ripping the wood and the plastic until he can fit in the hole and disappear.
“He can be everywhere! We left the door open when we cleaned before!” Robin was worried and angry with herself, they need to have a thousand eyes with all these little rascals inside…
They turn everything but the cat isn’t there. Steve walked a hundred times the street back and forth, calling him, but without success. He asked their neighboring shops if they saw a little ginger cat that probably would try to kill them if they tried to catch him.
The only one he can’t advise is the mechanic shop three doors down at the other side of the street.
Steve has already seen the blonde, handsome mechanic, most of the time covered in car grease and a stupid sexy overall he leaves open on his chest, but he has neves spoken to him. He just stared at him most of the time, and at this moment the shop seems closed.
Steve and Robin wait and search all day for little Pretzel, but at a certain moment Robin has to clock out and go home, Steve stays for some paperworks.
An instant before, the bells on the door ring and Steve snorts.
“Robin, what did you forget this time?”
“I’m not Robin and maybe I have something you want back”.
Steve raises his eyes and remains mouth wide open for a while.
The blonde, hot mechanic he likes to stare at is here in front of him, only this time he is perfectly cleaned and combed and his hair isn't covered in dark oil. Steve can smell the colony from his desk.
The mechanic opens his jacket and shows a little ball of red fur, sleeping and purring against his chest. Steve has never seen Pretzel sleeping so peacefully and surely he has never heard him purring.
The blonde man raises the cat to his face and rubs his face to the content kitty (when Steve tried to do it, he almost lost an eye), and the kitty seems to really smile at the blonde while mocking Steve with the corner of his eye.
“Hey princess!” Call the mechanic again. “Is he the kitty you were searching for? Mary from the cafe said something”.
Steve blinks and shakes, then nods.
“Yes, of course, he is! Thank you!”
“What’s his name?”
“Well, he is Pretzel…”
“Oh, really? I really, really love pretzels…” answered the mechanic, rubbing the cat more to him. “Is the little Pretzel available for adoption?”
Steve is fascinated by the hot man playing with the kitty, but he has to shake his head.
“Not now, Pretzel has a condition we need to treat. But when he will be ok, we can consider your offer”, he says, raising his hands to take the animal. He has to get near the mechanic, inside his personal space, and blushes and shivers when they touch each other.
“Well, can I contribute to his treatments?” Insists the blonde.
“Well, it’s all covered really…”
“At least can I buy you a drink? I’m Billy, by the way”.
Steve puts Pretzel down in another cage, really hoping he could stay there for at least a night. He turns his back to Billy so he can’t see him blushing furiously.
“Well, okay…” he whispered, shivering a little and excited.
The drink rapidly becomes a sandwich and an ice cream, and a ride on Billy's vintage Camaro.
“Do you like it?” Says Billy. “I can take you for a ride, if you want”.
The next morning, Robin finds Steve already at his desk in the early morning.
“Steve? Are you here so early? You look tired! Did you find Pretzel?”
Steve nodded.
“Steve? Are you wearing the same clothes of yesterday?”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Robin!”
The doorbell rings and Robin goes to speak with a man with a carton box. She returned putting the box with a mallard duck on the desk.
“Look what people throw away nowadays… Well, Steve, did you have breakfast?”
Steve blushes and shakes his head slowly, lowering his eyes.
Robin is puzzled. “Well, we have to name that little one, what is the last thing you ate?”
Steve blushed even more, sinking in his chair.
“Billy. Her name is Billy”.
#stranger things#writing#billy hargrove#steve harrington#harringrove#veterinary#kitty cat#red cat#mechanic Billy
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Hello can i ask for a hcs artoria lancer with male or gn reader who haves alucard from hellsing powers? Also the reader was randomly transported to the fate universe from their own universe and everyone just thought the reader was a spirit who have amnesia and have made up a new identity from somewhere
Let me just say that I had a blast and a half while writing this.
NOW! YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND!!!
A one in one hundred septillion chance brought you to Chaldea.
A flare of the ley line at the exact right moment allowed you to incarnate in this world.
And it was an event like no other.
Shadows grew long, the air dropped to the point where the world outside of the arctic base would be a boiling hot summer day, and the summoning circle flared black and red.
Then you appeared from the circle, dazed, lost, confused, barely able to speak, barely able to comprehend the world around you.
Guda and the others did their best to help you in the moment, but the storm of chaos that is Chaldea quickly brought their attention elsewhere.
That being said, Guda did assign someone to keep an eye on you.
Artoria Pendragon Lancer.
A regal woman with enchanting beauty and power to match it.
She was a kind woman, if a tad awkward and a bit of a glutton.
And something about her… called to you.
Like a breeze on a day where the weather is just right as you lay in the shade of a great tree.
Comforting, calming, gentle, kind, and wonderful.
These are all words you would use to describe Artoria.
She was all of those and more.
And so, as soon as you were stable enough, you were instantly at her side whenever she called for you.
It also helped that Da Vinci was all too happy to let you test run her weapons.
So the two of you would always be sent together.
Her lance to close the distance and destroy the enemy, your guns to cover her approach with ammunition that no mortal human could ever hope to use.
Over time the two of you grew close.
Closer than guardian and protectorate.
Closer than comrades..
Closer than friends.
The two of you became lovers.
And despite how little you knew of yourself, you were happy.
But then, on one fateful day, everything came crashing down.
You never once had used your Noble Phantasm in service of Chaldea, not because you couldn’t use it, but because you were afraid of it.
Of what it could mean for this life you had made.
Of what it could mean for the family you had in Chaldea.
It terrified you, but as all of Chaldea faced down the last of demon pillars, you knew what must be done.
And so, you told your master to do it, to use their command seal on you.
And as the command seal activated, darkness surrounded you, engulfing you. In all honesty, it would be more accurate to say, the darkness was emanating from you and swallowing the world around it whole like a ravenous hound.
Bugs, arachnids, gaping maws with dozens of sharp teeth, these and a hundred more horrible things made up your form and the swirling aether around you. A massive pitch black hound, lounged behind you, the closest thing Artoria had ever seen to human cruelty in the face of an animal in her entire life carved onto its face.
You raised your hand, the back of it pointing forward towards the massive creature as a burning flame ignited upon it to make a seal, and the world around you ignited in turn.
“You asked for my name once, and now, I will finally be able to answer you…” you stated before trailing off.
Then, an infinite number of eyes opened upon your body, upon the darkness, upon the shadows, upon every single dark place for a thousand miles as you spoke once more as all who bore witness to what was happening felt ice flood their veins.
In that moment, a universal truth was revealed to them all.
A glimpse into the realm of God.
The infinite sea at the heart of the world.
The Womb Of Creation.
In that moment, all who bore witness to this knew one thing.
You could not be allowed to begin speaking, much less finish what you were saying.
Alas, no one could make any semblance of a move to stop you, that is the power you commanded in this moment as everything became clear with each word you spoke.
“In the sea without lees, Standeth the bird of Hermes, Eating his wings variable, And maketh himself yet full stable, When all his feathers be from him gone, He standeth still here as a stone, Here is now both white and red, And all so the stone to quicken the dead, All and some without fable, Both hard and soft and malleable, Understand now well and right, And thank you God of this sight, The bird of Hermes is my name, and so I am found eating my wings to make me tame.”
You were not a saber nor archer, lancer nor caster, assassin nor rider nor berserker, nor were you a pretender or avenger or ruler.
You were a Foreigner, an existence that is completely incompatible with reality.
And You?
You.
Did.
Not.
Care.
The only thing that you cared about was this.
A single blemish upon her could not be allowed, you refused to even entertain the thought.
She was the king, she was the one whom you loved and was loved by in turn, she was the one who had put her trust in you.
No, if even a single scratch was to befall her…
Millions of cruel and sickening punishments shot through your mind like a swarm of locusts blotting out the sky to devour the crops in the field below.
Something like that could simply not be allowed.
The black aether that comprised your body opened its eyes.
And then all hell broke loose.
By the time the flames died, the dust settled, and the screams subsided, nothing remained on the battlefield aside from you and the soldiers of Chaldea.
After this, you would only stand in Artoria’s presence to slaughter her enemies with brutality that was unmatched.
You haunted the edges of her vision, her shadows, her every move.
And it broke her heart.
She wanted to laugh with you again.
To eat with you again.
To be merry with you again.
That was her one wish.
And eventually, after many nights of gazing into the shadows of her room, after many nights of silent prayers, you answered her call.
Because it broke your heart to be away from her as well.
You wanted to laugh with her again.
To eat with her again.
To be merry with her again.
That was your one wish.
A wish that, as “The Bird Of Hermes” was forever out of your grasp.
Even now, you were only running on sheer willpower to keep yourself tied to this world.
Your return to the world you come from was inevitable.
Or, that is what you thought.
But Chaldea doesn’t let one of its own go that easily.
They all fought tooth and nail to keep you around.
And they succeeded.
So then you and Artoria returned to the same way it was before.
The Master Of The Holy Lance and The Bird Of Hermes
Steel and gunsmoke.
Light and dark.
Laughing with each other.
Eating with each other.
Being merry with each other.
And loving one another.
#artoria pendragon x reader#artoria pendragon#artoria lancer#fate grand order x reader#fgo fate grand order#fate x reader#fate#fate go
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“Sibling relationships outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust”
#my girls#my sisters#mine#edit#twilightedit#twilight#rosalie hale#alice cullen#bella swan#alicecullenedit#rosaliehaleedit#bellaswanedit#thetwilightsaga#thetwilightsagaedit#collage#I made these! piece by piece
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I forgot to mention it in the last ask, but also Sarah and Ellie meeting and holding Sammy for the first time as well🤍
Iris
Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader
Summary: “Sibling relationships outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust.” Erica E. Goode
Warnings: hospital settings, Ellie being unsure, Sarah being the Eldest Daughter, sibling banter, breastfeeding
Joel and Sammy are asleep, but you and the girls are awake. You can't explain why. After over a full day of labor, you think you'd be asleep, but you can't stop staring at Sam. You think you also just really missed your girls. Joel is curled up in the chair next to your hospital bed while Ellie and Sarah are sitting on either side of you, looking at Sam. Sam has Sarah's finger in a vice grip, but you don't think she'd take it back even if the world was ending.
"I can't believe how small he is," Ellie says quietly, and you nod.
"He didn't feel very small when he was coming out." You say, making them both giggle.
"You did a really great job. We're proud of you." Sarah says, and you smile. Sam chuffs in his sleep, and the three of you simultaneously melt in the same exact way down to the sound that leaves you. It's fun to think that although Sarah and Ellie didn't come from you, they still exhibit your traits. After almost three years in their lives, you're able to pick out mannerisms and habits they unknowingly adopted from you way before they started calling you Mom. The realization seems to hit you all at once, and you have to take a deep breath so you don't cry (again).
"Do either of you wanna hold him?" You ask, looking between them. Ellie looks scared shitless, but Sarah, ever the big sister, sits straight up and looks at you with big, puppy dog eyes.
"Can I?" She asks, and you nod.
"Unless Ellie wants to hold him first."
"It's all you," Ellie says without skipping a beat, and you laugh. Carefully, you transition Sammy into Sarah's arms without waking him. You don't have to remind her to support his head or adjust her posture. She does it all on her own. The second he's settled in her arms, she kisses his head and takes a shaky breath like she's about to start crying.
"Hi, Sammy Boy," she whispers. "Hi there. My name is Sarah. I'm your big sister. It's very nice to meet you," Ellie chuckles a little at her big sister's conversation with an infant, but she doesn't do anything to stop her. "Being totally honest, I've never had a brother before, so I don't know how this works, but I think we'll be able to figure each other out. Is that okay?" Sammy shifts in her arms like he's burrowing down for comfort, and she smiles softly. She looks like Joel when she smiles like that. "Yeah, I think that's okay. I love you, sweet boy." You wipe at your eyes and pull Sarah close to kiss her temple. She leans into your touch like a baby herself, and you ignore the pain in your hips so she can get comfortable. Sarah holds him for another ten minutes, taking him in before she looks at Ellie.
"D'you wanna hold him?" She asks, and Ellie opens her mouth, her lips twitching as she tries to find the words. You jump in before her brain can explode.
"You don't have to if you're not ready, but if you want to, I'll be right here the whole time. You're not gonna break him. I promise," you say, and she chews on her bottom lip as she thinks. Finally, she nods and readjusts in her seat as Sarah hands Sam back to you, and you put Sam in Ellie's arms. Her posture is rigid and composed like a soldier as she holds him, and you smile. "You can relax. He's not going anywhere." You say, putting your hands over hers and adjusting her position. She relaxes a little and smiles as she looks down at him.
"I don't have to talk to him or anything, right?" She asks, and you laugh.
"No, you can just hold him if you want." You say. So, she does. She holds him and copies the way he sticks his tongue out or furrows his brows in his sleep. It's her form of love, you think to yourself. Then, slowly and as careful as ever, she reaches out and traces over his features with a gentle finger. You immediately remember the way she did the same with your sonogram pictures and silently watch as she traces the curve of his nose, his eyebrows, his cheek, everything. He doesn't stir or fuss at her actions; he just sleeps peacefully and lets her do whatever. When she's done, she rests a hand over his chest, and you wonder if she can feel his heartbeat through the swaddle he's in.
"He's pretty cool," she says as she meets your eyes. "I like him."
"You just like him?" Sarah asks, and Ellie rolls her eyes.
"Fine, Sarah," she says, over-enunciating her sister's name. "I love him. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"Yeah, actually. Thanks so much." Sarah says as Sam begins fussing in Ellie's arms, and Ellie sends her a death glare.
"Look what you did. You woke him up."
"I didn't do shit!"
"Well, it wasn't me!"
"Neither of you did anything. He's probably just hungry." You laugh as you take Sam back and begin unbuttoning your hospital gown. Sarah and Ellie scurry away to give you some privacy, but they stay nearby, even snapping some pictures on your phone of you in all your exhausted glory, feeding your son like it's second nature.
They end up being some of your favorites from the day Sam was born. It could be the way the sun is just peeking behind skyscrapers or the way you're looking down at Sam, but you think it's the beauty of being a mom that shines through. Because not only are you a mom to the little boy latched to your breast, but you're a mom to the girls behind the camera despite not sharing any DNA with them. "Love makes a family," Sarah told you once. "Not blood." And if that's true, you've been a family since long before you married their dad and had their brother. If that's true, you think you must've been their mom in a past life too. If that's true, you must be the luckiest woman in the world to create a family from stardust and blood and from the most valuable thing in the universe— love.
#one for the money two for the show#rockstar!joel miller#tlou au#the last of us au#dad!joel miller#the last of us#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel tlou#the last of us x reader#the last of us fluff
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Hi I have a genuine question what is it about sibcest is it that you like or whatever im very curious but idk how to ask or even I guess google just curious like I don’t understand if that makes sense
hello anon!! i genuinely, really appreciate this ask. and i wanna start by saying it is not a trope or topic for everyone which i totally understand, even after being offered some perspective on it and thats OKAY LOL. but recently i saw a quote that lends itself well to sibcest pairings "Sibling relationships outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust." its like this undying devotion for a person that could not be broken by anything alongside the forbidden nature of it? i've always loved secret lovers stories and siblings falling in love is sort of the ultimate version of that. it makes the characters outliers of society, relying more and more on one another the deeper they fall for each other. "us against the world". traumatizing the other while trauma bonding. codependency. coercion. dubcon. all the delightfully horrible tropes wrapped together
this is rambly but just my personal thoughts on it.
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"Sibling relationships outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust."
- Erica E. Goode
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Headcanons about Colu, Coluans and the Brainiacs
Because the DC Database articles are hella dry and my imagination knows no bounds when driven by Querl Dox.
I suppose the lack of strictly canon information on the planet is mostly due to DC's lack of diligence regarding their timeline(s) and universe(s). What is provided can essentially be boiled down to the following: Colu is a planet with a highly advanced society, home of Brainiac, and ruled by the Computer Tyrants until the late 20th century. I'm not sure how canon it is nowadays that Vril Dox II destroyed the tyrants, but for my purposes I will consider it to be. Coluans are also cited as having ridiculously long lifespans,(as in thousands of years) which I'm fine with to an extent. Oddly no mention is made of Coluans sharing in a kind of mental collectivity, so I must assume that was popularized by non-comics media.
Okay, staying on track.
Colu itself is supposedly 50/50 land and water. Seems dubious that it would be split so evenly, but it's not really a problem. The planet also has six moons, which is kind of a lot. Eclipses would be common. Colu is often depicted as having little to no natural environment left, likely because that's what people thought an advanced society looked like back in the 1960s. My take is that Coluans have totally withdrawn from their world's natural space, creating an artificial environment to live in that is self-contained. So by the 30th century Colu's surface has reverted to a wilderness, with only a few scattered research bases for studying the native animals and plants.
One headcanon I have that runs contrary to canon info is that Colu is not particularly populous. It is acknowledged in canon that such a long-lived race wouldn't reproduce much, to the point that there may be only one child on the planet at a time(poor lonely New 52 Querl). I have a preference for the 5YL timeline's "age cohort" concept, especially since I perceive Coluans as highly social.
The Coluan mental network has gone by many names in canon, most of them terrible(still mad about "Big Brain") but I am a fan of the concept. I see it a kind of constant baseline telepathy, linking Coluans who are within a certain distance of each other. On Colu, nearly all are linked and this results in a kind of forum, where participants are always available to consult on each other's research. An omnipresent peer-review board of sorts. This is not an innate ability, but achieved instead through implanted technology, and can be turned off by force. It probably emerged sometime after the destruction of the Computer Tyrants, as a way of coping with newfound free will. The network is the result of a culture based on sharing individual discoveries for the advancement of society at large, and prior to its invention this would have been carried out via public discourse. As to whether Brainiac 5 would be a part of this, based on his relationship with his people across incarnations, he likely was cut off from it in adolescence or severed the connection himself. It is possible that being a 12th-level in a network with an average of level 8 would cause problems. I'd imagine being isolated in that way to be traumatic, even if Querl did it to himself.
After a reference to "sterile environment" in Waid's Legion(2005), I believe Coluans have a bit of a thing about cleanliness. Their cities, contained under domes, have closely regulated environmental parameters and anything that enters must be sterilized according to procedure. This is just one of many factors that make Colu one of the less friendly planets in the UP. Another expression of this cultural obsession(that has already appeared in my writing), I've decided Coluans remove all their hair. This follows the depiction of Colu in Superman and the Legion of Superheroes(one of my favourites), where everyone is bald. My excuse for Brainiac 5 having hair is that he's an eccentric, but also that he left Colu at a young age. Coluans are mammals and grow hair more or less as humans do, and that is enough about that.
Coluans have a vendetta against AI due to their history, and have been shown to actively oppose the development of thinking machines. I genuinely feel like Querl develops things that he knows his people will dislike out of spite. Vril Jr. is remembered on Colu as a hero, but throughout most of the galaxy he's become a symbol of manipulation and power-mongering. Lyrl's misdeeds have been lost to time, though on Colu physical scars remain.
I have thoughts as to how Coluans evolved to be so damn smart, but I'm no evolutionary biologist so they begin and end with "highly complex environment", and eventually lead to a concept of a diverse jungle, filled with clever and brightly-coloured creatures that would have challenged the ancestors of the Coluan species to devise myriad ways to escape them. I get carried away with this in my personal work, especially since encountering Lyrl Dox(certified jungle boy).
I've run out of steam. Thank you for reading this, please keep in mind these are just headcanons, affecting my own work mainly.
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"Sibling relationships outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust."
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i’m not enthusiastic about both fanon and canon cheapening the significance of dick’s stern morals (and the fact that everyone seems to forget that historically he strays away from them when at the very rock bottom) but i think esp. re: jason the idea that dick would easily reach out to him post-res because he is less committed to the moral code than bruce is sooo boring to me.
personally, i do think he would be desperate to have jason back (and i dislike how things went in bib for example) but he would be desperate despite not being able to come to terms with jason’s crimes. it’s more about love than anything else. here you have dick grayson, paragon of virtue. he only ever directly killed a man when his brother’s name was mentioned. he hallucinated said brother and whimpered his name lying on the ground. when his brother died, he felt like he died too.
he wouldn’t reach out to red hood because of his lack of care for the sixth commandment, he would reach out to him because that’s his little brother who got murdered in his uniform.
so it’s not like all the atrocities jason committed do not matter to him; it’s just that jason matters more. in this sense jason would be more of a shocking exception with the amount of sympathy and patience that dick has for him. or maybe that’s just my 80s dick nostalgia talking.
#had this in my drafts for a while might as well#jay.txt#dick.txt#thousand incarnations of closeness and distance#dc#jay.zip#dick.zip#core texts
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secret files and origins: nightwing // a lover’s discourse
#erasing parts of dialogue that i don’t vibe with because fuck dixon#anyway. ignore the context of the quote it’s about brotherism now#thousand incarnations of closeness and distance#jason todd#dick grayson#dc comics#web weaving
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I miss my brother / I miss my sister
Mary Oliver, Summer Morning / ( insp.)
@myriamas
#i have sibling feels today#dastan: muse#( dastan & myriam — we flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance )#( myriam allyrion )
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Song of Avignon (1998)
Today I realise that I am forty and that an immense emptiness surrounds me and my soul. I have come to this, it is here that my life has led me to. I am in a thick darkness. Often I feel I am sinking. I reach for air and I feel today that the only way out - my only hope - is to submerge perhaps into this blackness completely, like into a coma. Not to run away from it, not to stare into it, but to embrace it and thus go beyond it. With or without, perhaps…
The pain is stronger than ever. I have seen bits of lost paradises and I know that I will be hopelessly trying to return even if it hurts. The deeper I swing into the regions of nothingness, the further I am thrown back into myself; each time more and more frightening depths below me until my very being becomes dizzy.
There are brief glimpses of clear sky - like falling out of a tree - so I have some idea of where I am going but there is still too much clarity and straight order of things. I am getting always the same numbers, somehow. So I vomit out broken bits of words and syntaxes, the countries I've passed through, broken limbs of slaughtered houses, geographies… My heart is poisoned, my brain left in shreds of horror and sadness. I never let you down, world, but you did lousy things to me.
This feeling of going nowhere, of being stuck, the feeling of Dante's first strophe as if afraid of the next step, next stage. As long as I don't sum up myself, stay on the surface, I don't have to move forwards. I don't have to make painful and terrible decisions, choices: where to go and how. Because deeper there are terrible decisions to make, terrible steps to take. It is at forty that we die, those who did not die at twenty. It is at forty that we betray ourselves, our bodies, our souls, by either staying on the surface or by going further back through the easiest decisions, retarding, throwing ourselves back by thousands of incarnations…
But I have come close to the end now. It's the question: will I make it or will I not? My life has become too painful and I keep asking myself: what am I doing to get out of where I am? What am I doing with my life? It took me long to realise that it's love that distinguishes man from stones, trees, rain, and that we can lose our love, and that love grows through loving. Yes, I have been so completely lost, so truly lost.
There were times I wanted to change the world. I wanted to take a gun and shoot my way through the western civilisation. Now I want to leave others alone; they have their terrible fates to go. Now I want to shoot my own way through myself, into the thick night of myself. Thus, I change my course: my love going inwards.
Thus I am jumping into my own darkness. There must be something, somehow, I feel, very soon - something that should give me some sign to move one or another direction. I must be very open and watchful now. Completely open. I know it's coming. I am walking like a somnambulist waiting for a secret signal, ready to go one or another way, listening into this huge white silence for the weakest sign or call. And I sit here alone and far from you, and it is night, and I am reflecting on everything all around me and I am thinking of you.
I saw it in your eyes, in your love. You, too, are swinging towards the depths of your own being in longer and longer circles. I saw happiness and pain in your eyes, and reflections of the paradises lost and regained and lost again. That terrible loneliness and happiness, yes, and I reflect upon this. And I think about you like two lonely space pilots in outer cold space as I sit here this late night alone, and I think about all this, and about you, and for a brief moment - I don't know for how long - we meet somewhere between the words, dreams, images, space; between the words, perhaps, and I am happy. As I look into the cold endless space passing by without sound, without speed, a metal blue endless distance between us. But I know you are there. I can feel your heartbeat, my love.
[Should I retreat into some silent place and work it all out by myself, I asked. No, the voice said. You should stay here and continue doing what you are doing and work it all out the difficult way. The easy way will save your soul only; the difficult way will save your soul and a few others. So this is your choice: salvation by yourself, or salvation together with others-]
[Your face has always been upon me]
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Sibling relationships outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust.
- Erica E. Goode
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