catharine - Profile (original) (raw)

This is a journal for personal/real-life posts, and it's friendsonly. I also have a few other journals for various things. I will pretty much only friend you here if I already know you.

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I sit down, and I want something more than I’ve ever wanted anything before.

Gilgamesh was king in Uruk. His walls were of baked brick, and he knew wisdom. He went to the forest and slew the creature living there, and brought back the cedars for the lintel of his massive door. They moved the river to build his tomb.

Siddhartha Gautama was a king in a world of silk, until he walked through the streets and saw the charnel houses, the lepers, the bodies floating in the river, and the wailing women. Then he left the city and had no possessions other than a bowl.

Jesus was king of no land, a carpenter and a wanted man, and he danced on the desert mountains until they put nails through his arms.

Muhammad spoke to angels, Chuang-tzu dreamt of a butterfly, Walt Whitman lounged on the grass, and Judas, Judas used a rope.

Inanna opened her ear to the great below, but she was a goddess, so it doesn’t count. They treat us like ants. They treat us like ants, butterflies, moths.

Moths are drawn to the flame. Butterflies emerge from cocoons. Mayflies live in the water for months, until they come into the air and die after a day, and leave their skins on the pilings of the docks, and their bodies float in the river.

Leaves float in the river.

And in all this, where is the beautiful girl?

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