Tuesday, August 12, 2008

to begin

One of the runes on my arm means "warrior."

It's the first one I think of, the first one I list off to people, and the first one I inscribed when I wrote the blessing.

The warrior spirit is something to contemplate.
I don't know that I have it.


I wish that I did.
In those dreams I write of [ofwhichIwrite], I am always able, strong, brave, fighting.

When was the last time I fought against anything? When have I ever felt that confident power flowing through me when I wasn't on a windy precipice or in a bed?

Why do these dreams make me wish I could change? Why do so many waking moments do the same?

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