Alma Mater Twilight

It is so beautiful out tonight. The breeze runs up and down my back like an icy finger, but still with the warm mint of summer. Whispers of mystery float lightly in my ear and I imagine the slick oils on the wings of that bird. It cuts the sky in sharp spurts of life and I fled a sparrow.

The lawn is decorated with the rainbow of a carnival, although they still haven't replaced my light. I don't care now, though. All I see is him, him, him and nothing else can effect me. Not even the aching pulse in my thumb or the spokes running up and down my arms and into my cheeks, under my skin.

Darkness is falling the landscape now, mercifully collapsing the world into slumber (and Violetta shrieks in protest).

Two clashing stars sweep across the sky, paying homage to Dagny Taggart and Henry Rearden and I wonder if they're all that wrong.

It's weird-- not being buried. I hardly know what it is to breathe, but I am realizing that it is not the cool, sweet taste of the sky on your lips, but rather the lack of suffocation that distinguishes it.

But only I know the truth and when I think of it, it makes me uneasy and i wonder if it is better or worse. Will it all be falsified? (Oh God! The brightness!) Can the universe really exist in a person? In the opera, they're always singing "il mio universo e in te." Maybe that's why people stop seeking and why it makes no sense to me.

Maybe they all really are asking for the universe. Maybe they've just found it.

Oh God... now my entire left leg is tingling uncontrollably and I am hardly aware of how to help it.

Oh well... I'll try to read.