If Power Was An Illusion, Wasn't Weakness

It's A Bizarre But Wonderful Feeling, To Arrive Dead Center Of A Target You Didn't Even Know You Were Aiming For.

I'm Not Getting It All Sorted, She Worried. I'm Not Getting It Right. You Are Brilliant, The Voice Reassured Her. It Is Imperfect. So Are All Things Trapped In Time. You Are Brilliant, Nonetheless. How Fortunate For Us That We Thirst For Glorious Souls Rather Than Faultless Ones, Or We Should Be Parched Indeed, And Most Lonely In Our Perfect Righteousness. Carry On Imperfectly, Shining Ista.

They Stared At Her Curiously, And She Caught Snatches Of Conversation In Two Or Three Languages. It Wasn't Hard To Guess Their Content, And She Smiled A Bit Primly. Youth, It Appeared, Was Full Of Illusions As To How Much Sexual Energy Two People Might Have To Spare While Hiking Forty Or So Kilometers A Day, Concussed, Stunned, Diseased, On Poor Food And Little Sleep, Alternating Caring For A Wounded Man With Avoiding Becoming Dinner For Every Carnivore Within Range - And With A Coup To Plan For The End.

A Good Friend Of My Son's Is A Son To Me.

When The Time Comes To Leap In Faith Whether You Have Your Eyes Open Or Closed Or Scream All The Way Down Or Not Makes No Practical Difference.