Isolated Dreams And Memories In Summer (OOTP 6.5)

[Izulde]

Watch the fireflies flit across the humming, humid midsummer meadow.

But it's not a meadow. Only a mediocre backyard of sweat-drenched grass. I am but a blade in humanity's weed-laden lawn. Dull and waxy. Good adjectives for me.

Banish everyone and everything. All that exists, all that matters in the darkness is me and my thought-creations.

Conjurer, summoner, artificer. I fashion entire worlds with a single stream trickling through the mind. It's magical, of course. Aristan is too mundane a word.

The past manifests itself, unfortunately. Nothing is ever entirely in pure isolation. Boats of memories past chain themselves to one another, to the very font of bubbling, misty, steaming, inspiration.

Alas that vacuums are destroyed like tyrants. Damn the elephantine recollect.

Very well. Embrace what has been. Weave the tapestry with the fabric of days gone by. Enrich its colours by making it personal, intimate.

Maybe then my ghosts will be excised.

Or maybe I'll drown in the madness of my own melancholy springs.