sharpen

dry fig leaves chase each other in circles as we walk through the parking lot. nods of the head embody our silent approval of each word that passes between us. a splay tree rearranges itself with each thought we exchange. (our mind - so we can better access topics relevant to the other person faster.)

it's fun versus enjoyment: the spikes of silliness and the steady peaceful happiness that changes over the years. the latter begins to dominate the former. is fun an important thing to maintain? or is enjoyment fine - or better?

--

complacency is the enemy in times of minimal conflict. always strive to do better. but then again there's no need to stress out. this mindset

pensive twirls of the pen in hand, background rain generated from the computer, a void to fill or a chasm to empty - not sure what's happening. need to stay sharp - no, get sharper.

--

'carry your world.'
'sometimes the wire must tense for the note.'
'the wheel breaks the butterfly.'
behold: a faint emotional twist that sharpens your awareness of yourself. we live in an egg designed for us to be ready when it hatches. the whole point is to mature.

--

I wanted closure, but couldn't find any. someone steps out of the shadow and startles me - but it's just law, twig in mouth, blade sheathed in belt. we walk over to ev's where we find her reading a book to background music. 'some search for gold,' she tells us as we step through the door. 'what are you here for?' we say nothing and sit down - just to enjoy each other's company. the cool night air kisses the back of my neck through the window. law sits still with a calm smile as he watches her snap her book shut and raise her eyebrows back. 'others want a dragon to slay,' law says. 'but we don't really - because once we see one, we'd rather it not be there.' we decide to carry our conversation to the woods.

a masked hunter lurks in these woods. law and ev know he could get them, snipe them down with his lethal spear or whatever he throws, but they walk on, knowing they're invincible. because the pen is with them. the writer of the fight.

let the fight come as it may. when law and ev blink in the same moment, a dagger twirls like lighting from bushes far away. I watch as it comes closer, a slow moving metallic piece of art. law sees it - and lets it come. it hits him hard in the chest. but no penetration: the thrower had miscounted his steps. 'you're supposed to throw at an odd number of paces away, sir,' law grins. 'not even.' the dagger is his now, and the hunter is still in hiding, one weapon short. ev does that thing with her eyebrows again to see if law will hunt back. he doesn't. just stashes the blade in his ever growing collection, and we walk on.

'so what dragon are we talking about today?' asks ev. 'the one found in books,' I say, thinking about the billions of stories I'll never get to read. 'the one that builds invisible walls against totalitarianism in the real world by breathing fire through the pages.' law and ev both nod. we reach a cliffside and sit down. the hunter won't bother us here. in fact, he couldn't bother us anywhere.

the moon is above us; the city, below, taking long, long sips of the cool moon. the city, sleeping in its soft glow of lights in the valley, the fog a pillow to the peaceful inhabitants inside. a dragon could have swooped down and perched on a cliff ledge, wrapped its wings around itself for warmth. as I think this, it happens, and ev points and laughs, leans forward to watch the spectacle. law wraps his arm around her and they smile peacefully at the sight. 'maybe there could be a dragon, but no one needs to slay it.' pause. tilt my head upward. wispy clouds stroke the moon. 'suppose so.'