Obfuscatory

The prospect of falling
From favour, from grace
From sight, mind, and memory
From all the happy moments
Snatched
Beneath the Watcher's nose
Chills the heart of me
As though I have already
Fallen.

Cruel winds bear me for a while
Tattering skin and sleeve,
Whispering malice -
Words against what I have known,
He whom I have known,
He I thought I knew;
Tears my hard-won confidence
Leaves me only with
The whispering wind,
And the thousand sharpened whispers
That chill the heart
Of me.

But the wind does not change you;
You are not swayed by its malice,
You hold your arms about you
And seek for warmer winds
To bear you where you will.
Nor can whispers change the heart of you
The essence of you
Of being.

Only I have fallen,
Allowed myself to slip into the smiling snare
Allowed my ears to pick out words
From the formless, errant air.
What though the wind is jealous?
What though it rages?
Let us go to the summer lands,
You and I.
Let us spread a sail,
Lift wing and glide,
Turn the wind to our advantage,
Laugh at it,
Into it,
And away.

Mood: Ugh - headachy
Music: Chicago
Thunk: Je ne veux pas aller a la theatre! Je suis tres fatigue! AAAAAAAAAAUGH! Arrete! Arrete! Arrete!