the hardest part of discerning an arc is knowing when it is finished. the dark can obscure, but the future is sure, it's the present that changes every minute. it works like Merlin-- learning that time goes backwards gives every moment its purpose.
i know that this road is closed, but i know it will open again in the summertime, cos i know that you're under the mud and the dirt and you will rise like crocuses in spurts, but i ain't waiting cos they told me not to: the magic eight ball and Waite and Thoth too, because the top Fool doesn't anticipate his hop to the bottom.
i'm not lost without you, i've got God, i've got truth, i've got a wizard's lineage and visions into the abyss; i've got a million ids in my skin prison; too many voices to listen; too many choices in this incarnation of time to be worried about yours and mine.
i feel your hand on the glass but i can't push you over the line.