Quantum Belief
An infinity of choices Both particle and sine Scoff at wondering voices Who see in this divine
An infinity of choices Both particle and sine Scoff at wondering voices Who see in this divine
I lay in bed, wondering
What this eighth day of August will bring
This recurring date, this pattern
Forged eight by eight
Across the very fabric of my soul.
(This date, 8/8, is a recurrent pattern in my life. Neither good nor bad, it tends to herald major change. What's major? Try stuffs like adoption, for example! Diotima facts for you.)
I've tried to express this a few times; it's surprisingly hard for someone who enjoys writing. We'll get back to the other stuff after I'm done.
Hunger. Such hunger.
The ghaik glided along a darkened corridor of the vessel, silently, seeking the stateroom of its companion. The most subtle of sendings had sent her into a deep sleep... fleeting dreams of victory over her oppressive queen, memories of her companions... seasoning her mind with the flavors most appealing to the ghaik.
Love. Companionship. Conquest. Freedom. Emotions one could savor for hours.
Shaking as I put pen to pad
My ink heartsblood, bleeding out onto the page
Wishing into the inevitable silence
That perhaps finally, I will be seen.
This takes place in one of the many permutations of Faerun, a short time before the Baldur’s Gate 3 epilogue party. Filia was my first companion through the game… my eldritch warlock friend whose sacrifice broke me. This scene, canon to our own version of Faerun, was written soon after we said goodbye.
I’ve been reluctant to share these stories… I care about them enough to want others to care about them too. I guess we’ll see.
Spoilers ahead.
#poetry #death #mortality #hope #writing
TW: Death, Mortality, Grief
This salad would be better with bacon
And the chicken that I have eschewed
But I've chosen to try to be veggie
Though lack of flavor does naught for my mood