32 lines
1.0 KiB
Markdown
32 lines
1.0 KiB
Markdown
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---
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date: 2019-10-01
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title: "Inktober 2019 #1 - Poem and snippet courtesy of Lorxus"
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---
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[](/blog/inktober/2019-10-01.jpg)
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<div class="verse">A year starts not on January first.
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The days may hunder but the seasons speak
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of time's long march, of fast time, slow time. Thirst
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for "start" and "end" neglects the limen sleek.
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So, why do some unsubtle sciences
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forget about the in-betweens? Those pure
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uncolored dreams made mere contrivances;
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"between the years" now simply: "year, then year".
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These rough mechanics, held unseen, can spoil
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the beauty of our silent spaces, take
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from us the liminality, embroil
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our lives in cold and tired minutiae.
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Come sit with me, come stay with me inside
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this place between where strange new loves abide</div>
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<p style="text-align: center">§</p>
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"So, what does it mean?"
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She shrugged and sipped her tea. They sat together in silence for a while.
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"There's something about the liminal that terrifies me."
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<p style="text-align: right">"Me too," she said...</p>
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