Tuesday, January 04, 2005


Our names are Doe, Nuli, Zera and Cinca. They're kind of derivative. We're the New Year, lying here waiting for you to reign us in. You have 365 days to succeed. After that, we're history, and maybe a nice memory. We thought about who we'd like to catch us. Maybe a lean Latin boy who can squeeze like a vise. Or the intense, masculine eyes of a Slavic soul. Perhaps a dark skinned lover? Why does it have to be a male? Why indeed? We are diversity in chaos. We are the moment to seize, though it be an impossibility to approach us. We are totally in flux, slipping through grasping fingers. Chase us on the beach. You won't touch any of us. It will make you old. But there is a way. If you find us while we're resting, enjoying feelings of solitude. If you tunnel through hourglass sands as ancient as time and spring upon us, we would have nowhere to go. And you would be our master. Or mistress.

Story #120

3 comments:

retarius said...

welcome back...you have not lost your touch.

The Mushroom said...

They won't know flux until they've slipped through my fingers. Hold still, I'll tunnel through your hourglass.

I thought the New Year was a baby, not babes... But the more the merrier.

Robyn said...

Very nice Inde. I liked it. You have been missed glad to have you back.

Oh and have a nice day!!! Pass that on.

Love and Light