The one who calls is well known to us. Her voice is a wind we cannot feel, but we hear her and sometimes we even come to her. It is hard for us to do so, but her magic eases our strain.
Today it is I who come, her plea catching my thoughts. It's hard to say why. It's hard to say anything here, trapped as we are. Everything is as it isn't, and pinning down what it is feels impossible at times. But I feel clarity just now, and serendipity it seems has brought her to us. To me.
"Take me to Mort...pull me from this place and I will tell you what I know..." I don't sound as I once did. My voice does not resemble the timbre it once had, but the words are articulate just the same.
Today it is I who come, her plea catching my thoughts. It's hard to say why. It's hard to say anything here, trapped as we are. Everything is as it isn't, and pinning down what it is feels impossible at times. But I feel clarity just now, and serendipity it seems has brought her to us. To me.
"Take me to Mort...pull me from this place and I will tell you what I know..." I don't sound as I once did. My voice does not resemble the timbre it once had, but the words are articulate just the same.
