Farther than to know, yet closer than to see; Solos and duos, and less the more. Wanderings overgrown, walks dappled- The trees; taller than to live, yet speaking not to takers of the forest path. There is no straight way through the long unkempt garden. Names called lose their way; echoes are for naked stone. Faces searched for now in leaf shadow, now in shimmering pool Move their lips, but remain as silent as the giants. Warmth is more elusive; Breezes by the nightside fire, drops of morning diamond Touch the shoulder where once a lock of hair rested. Footsteps unguided can still be found at the sunlit temples Rising between the unknowing, the almost-seeing; But whispers on the wind, visions in the smoke of spruce, scents of earth and growth Tell nothing of who came before Nor hint at the place where They left the path.
The recent bit of trouble that Peter Jackson has had with actors' guilds in trying to recruit for his new version of The Hobbit, which has already…
Trying out a new account at Dreamwidth. I know, I'm jumping on another "jumping off" bandwagon. No panic this time; just seeing what DW can do for me.
I remember reading Elizabeth Moon in high school and being transported to cool worlds. Now I feel like I need a shower.