Weaver
Time is the substance from which I am made.
Time is a river which carries me along,
but I am the river;
Time is a river which carries me along,
but I am the river;
In time, all the things adults said would make sense. Or at least, they would make more sense. Life was not all that easy to understand, though, no matter how long you lived it.
Weaver lets her gaze wander to the sky again, watching the nearly cloudless sky above. There is a breeze from the water, and it’s perhaps a bit chilly, though Weaver cannot tell. Then Seren’s little hand comes to pat Weaver’s cheek as the girl tells her that she is nice, and something about the gesture breaks her heart just slightly. The good kind of breaking, the kind that lets you know your heart hasn’t turned to ice. ”I would like to be your friend very much,” she tells Seren, sincerity in her voice.
Weaver lets her gaze wander to the sky again, watching the nearly cloudless sky above. There is a breeze from the water, and it’s perhaps a bit chilly, though Weaver cannot tell. Then Seren’s little hand comes to pat Weaver’s cheek as the girl tells her that she is nice, and something about the gesture breaks her heart just slightly. The good kind of breaking, the kind that lets you know your heart hasn’t turned to ice. ”I would like to be your friend very much,” she tells Seren, sincerity in her voice.
it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger;
it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
