"We give and give and fall and fall."

I feel like I'm in the palace of the Snow Queen, my internal landscape mirroring the external.

His life marches on and on, new books being opened, new plans being made. My life is frozen in place, as I mimic Atlas, shouldering the burden of everything we ever chose to become, my wrists streaming the blood of all my energy, of everything I ever could become devoted to honoring this. "It is imperious....I bend my will to it, or it breaks, or breaks me." The weight is lain upon me almost carelessly, seemingly without understanding of the cost. Perhaps the understanding is there, perhaps not. I know not, and care not. All I am is concentrated on what I carry, and what I must do.

I'm so tired.

The giving is all I ever get back. That must be enough, for there is no other way. "For you, there isn't any more." The image of Aragorn opening the doors of Helm's Deep plays in my mind, catching my breath. Power. When everything has been ripped out of you, and you have no choice but to go on, all you can do is wrap yourself up in your own power, and carry it through.

"I'm resolved to being born, and so resigned to bravery."

Jade