Ella Wheeler Wilcox, 'Ad Finem'

[duathir.livejournal.com]

Ad Finem

On the white throat of useless passion
That scorched my soul with its burning breath
I clutched my hands in murderous fashion,
And held them close in a grip of death;
For why should I fan, or feed with fuel,
A love that showed me but blank despair ?
So my hold was firm, and my grasp was cruel—-
I meant to strangle it then and there!

I thought it was dead. But with no warning,
It rose from its grave last night, and came
And stood by my bed til the early morning
And over and over it spoke your name.
Its throat was red where my hands had held it;
It burned my brow with its scorching breath;
And I knew the moment my eyes beheld it,
"A love like this can know no death."

( For just one kiss that your lips have given )

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

When We Were Fearsome / Joanna Penn Cooper

[alwaysashipper.livejournal.com]

Are atoms made of lots of circles? is the first thing my small son
says when he wakes up. My mind swims around, trying to
remember if molecules are bigger than atoms. In models of
atoms, when they show what they look like, there are lots of
circles, I say.

The new chair of women’s studies at my alma mater is a man.

He writes me without using my professional title to ask what
I’ve been up to since graduation. His work, the letter says, has
been mentioned on NPR.

Quarks? I think, imagining electrons swimming in circles
around neutrons.

( Read more... )