vasnefy

Call me Angie. I'm a senior in high school, seventeen years old last April. Currently I'm lying on my bed, listening to Muse, and trying to concentrate on algebra--without, let's admit it, much success. The fate of "x" does not interest me in the least. I know perfectly well that even when I crack the code of the equation, all I will get is a number that has no significance outside itself. Why should I care if it's 8 or 10? I prefer problems with more interesting solutions: for example, what is my best friend Persephone thinking about right now? I take a peek over my shoulder. She's seated cross-legged on the floor, frowning over her noteb...

The stillness of the pond reflects jagged outlines of black pines the soft edges of clouds white against blue sky; an occasional glimmer on the water betrays the secret sun.The water's tranquil surface reveals shadows that flicker in the depths scales of orange and white in smooth and rippling motion: the mysterious solitary dance of goldfish in their native element.The element of water in its stillness both reflecting and revealing brings together depths and heights; koi are swimming, red-gold and white among jagged pine trees between the clouds and the sapphire sky.When one leaps and falling disturbs the surface both reflection and depth...

There are no stars tonight - the cloudy skies rust-color the seagulls with their aching cries white shapes that circle overhead while the waters of the Liffey flow black ripples reflecting green and white and golden lights.From the bridge where the beggar sits huddled against the nightly chill you can hear the music and the sound of a thousand voices in the corners of streets where the strangers walk side by side with the city's own - the drunkards stumbling home the young men smoking in the doorways the children holding fast to their mothers' hands the young lovers in each other's embrace the old peacefully hand in hand - and voices raise...

Wind sweeps the azure world; my wings, cloud-white, Sway down, soft feather-touch enfolding you, Unseen; protection frail yet strong, like light That overflows within a sky of blue. Open your eyes, forget the dream of night; Breathe fragrance in the wind that stirs the air, Feel the sun’s warmth, behind closed eyelids bright; Open your mind, and see beyond despair.Though straight the path, its end is out of sight: The boundless future of tomorrow’s sky Is opened only by the key of flight. Spread out your unseen wings; and without fear Take your first step into the windy height; Forever, in this azure sky, I’m near.

The parson's child from down the way is standing shamefaced in the white dust of the dirt road, holding out the stolen clamps while his mother firmly grips the back of his shirt collar. The weathersmith laughs to himself, hiding a telltale smile with a cough behind his large work-stained hand, stretching out the other to take back the miniature G-cramps from the child's small fingers. He separates them out judiciously, choosing the smallest and finest of all, the one he uses to tether faint summer zephyrs in the late afternoon when the sun is high and hot. "Here you are," he says, setting it back in the boy's smooth palm. "A gift to a futu...