Thought

It is not my intention to speak clearly now. But I must speak, no, sing. I feel that I must be heard. But I am unconcerned about your listening. I have no idea to express, but the speaking is mine, and it is enough, but only if you listen. I am unconcerned about you, for there is only the idea that I might think of something important to say, but I cannot think unless you shut up and listen. There was a thought I had once that was so beautiful, it frightened the angels.

battle

You will remember where you have been: by wound, by ache, by racing heart. But you will charge into the low lying fog, that ever lies before you, with sword drawn, with fear twisted into concentration, as every step falls heavily into an emptiness, filled with every possible danger. And your sweat you will wear as a jewel, to remind you of the fractions of moments passing forgotten, as you dwell on the wound, or fear the fog. You die when you do not live.