![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dona nobis pacem
Mar. 18th, 2003 11:01 amI wish for peace.
Every LJ on the planet, folks. I like this fellow.
I feel like there's nothing I can say that hasn't been said before, maybe even by myself. I can't say I fully understand what's going on--I am very out of touch, here in the middle of nowhere. Wednesday it begins, nigh inevitable; that is what I have heard.
I want to write a story about a war-torn world where everything was destroyed, razed to the ground, and the only people who survived were those who made their dreams come true, who literally escaped into fantasy worlds and live there with blue dragons as the rest of their people destroy themselves; and then they started fading because there was no real world left to support these dreams; and they all live there dying, desperately wishing to spread the sweet, simple peace they all believe in.
That's what I feel like now, like it's no longer safe to leave my own little world. The one, the lonely one, is impotent. There is nothing I can do except what I already am doing; yet if all souls did that, there would be no change, and no bomb would ever be diverted from its course. I'm a mere writer of idle fantasies, and I bear no ill to Baghdad, and it is only with my pen that I can call Morpheus, and only with my imagination that I can row a papyrus boat and lose myself in a bead net dress and the birdsongs of an Egyptian river. Politics destroys creatures such as myself, like water-fairies caught in the sunlight; we are ephemeral little motes against vast institutions. That's why, when I heard the news last night in FAPchat, I paused, and was silent for a moment, and then returned to writing. I meant no disrespect, but it was all I could do.
Heck, I could even give it a Sisters title. Dream Wars and a Ticket to Seem.
Our world is going mad; but it went mad a long time ago.
Every LJ on the planet, folks. I like this fellow.
I feel like there's nothing I can say that hasn't been said before, maybe even by myself. I can't say I fully understand what's going on--I am very out of touch, here in the middle of nowhere. Wednesday it begins, nigh inevitable; that is what I have heard.
I want to write a story about a war-torn world where everything was destroyed, razed to the ground, and the only people who survived were those who made their dreams come true, who literally escaped into fantasy worlds and live there with blue dragons as the rest of their people destroy themselves; and then they started fading because there was no real world left to support these dreams; and they all live there dying, desperately wishing to spread the sweet, simple peace they all believe in.
That's what I feel like now, like it's no longer safe to leave my own little world. The one, the lonely one, is impotent. There is nothing I can do except what I already am doing; yet if all souls did that, there would be no change, and no bomb would ever be diverted from its course. I'm a mere writer of idle fantasies, and I bear no ill to Baghdad, and it is only with my pen that I can call Morpheus, and only with my imagination that I can row a papyrus boat and lose myself in a bead net dress and the birdsongs of an Egyptian river. Politics destroys creatures such as myself, like water-fairies caught in the sunlight; we are ephemeral little motes against vast institutions. That's why, when I heard the news last night in FAPchat, I paused, and was silent for a moment, and then returned to writing. I meant no disrespect, but it was all I could do.
Heck, I could even give it a Sisters title. Dream Wars and a Ticket to Seem.
Our world is going mad; but it went mad a long time ago.