tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57187432012-01-10T21:25:01.882-05:00The thoughts of a mind, gathered like constellations, stars.melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804029199398107018noreply@blogger.comBlogger111100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5718743.post-1159485330696740732006-09-28T19:15:00.000-04:002006-09-28T19:15:30.720-04:00

Prayer of Philaret, Metropolitan of MoscowMy Lord, I know not what I ought to ask of Thee.Thou and Thou alone knowest my needs.Thou lovest me more than I am able to love Thee.O Father, grant unto me, Thy servant, all which I cannot ask.For a cross I dare not ask, nor for consolation;I dare only to stand in Thy presence.My heart is open to Thee.Thou seest my needs of which I myself am

melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804029199398107018noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5718743.post-1158429773063484032006-09-16T14:02:00.000-04:002006-09-16T14:06:14.516-04:00

"This has always been one of my favourite spots. Often as I stood here of a quiet evening, the sea intoning its song with deep but calm solemnity, my eye catching not a single sail on the vast surface, and only the sea framed the sky and the sky the sea, and when, too, the busy hum of life grew silent and the birds sang their vespers, then the few dear departed ones rose from the grave before me

melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804029199398107018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5718743.post-1144690337592815652006-04-10T13:27:00.000-04:002006-09-01T01:21:38.573-04:00

O ihr Zaertlichen, tretet zuweilenin den Atem, der euch nicht meint,lasst ihn an eueren Wangen sich teilen,hinter euch zittert er, wieder vereint.O ihr Seligen, o ihr Heilen,die ihr der Anfang der Herzen scheint.Bogen der Pfeile und Ziele von Pfeilen,ewiger glaenzt euer Laecheln verweint.Fuerchtet euch nicht zu leiden, die Schwere,gebt sie zurueck an der Erde Gewicht;schwer sind die Berge, schwer

melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804029199398107018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5718743.post-1136961031247232912006-01-11T01:29:00.000-05:002006-04-10T13:24:30.386-04:00

it feels strange to read something i thought was swallowed by cyberspace...it's funny that these posts are three years old.i have been writing the past few years in a livejournal, which can be accessed by request.

melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804029199398107018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5718743.post-1063943924843590192003-09-18T23:53:00.000-04:002006-09-01T01:27:11.870-04:00

I have much too much to do, and this journal, high-tech as it may be, will be replaced by that self-same little leather book. More tangible, more portable, and besides, it is red.Auf Wiedersehen,Bis Bald,Tschüss.

melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804029199398107018noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5718743.post-1063078426965977532003-09-08T23:33:00.000-04:002006-09-01T01:52:23.710-04:00

Some days are not like others. Wavering, I could not force my handwriting to obey. Form letters. I strode across a parking lot (I was quite possibly late to class); I could not remember having put on this particular pair of shoes. Luckily for me, they matched my lime green sweater. Today I found the electronic hot plate steaming white wisps from it's burner. After four cups of tea I left for a

melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804029199398107018noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5718743.post-1062897797674700092003-09-06T21:23:00.000-04:002006-09-01T01:35:40.913-04:00

"Since reason already convinces me that I should abstain from the belief in things which are not entirely certain and indubitable no less carefully than from those which appear to me to be manifestly false, it will be enough to make me reject them all if I can find in each some ground for doubt." -Rene DescartesHis bright and focused eyes surveyed the classroom before him as he spoke. I don't

melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804029199398107018noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5718743.post-1062703834054566662003-09-04T15:30:00.000-04:002006-09-01T01:36:17.153-04:00

The fourth of September.Once typed, the need for me to say something is gone.

melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804029199398107018noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5718743.post-1062636806147201652003-09-03T20:53:00.000-04:002006-09-01T01:37:57.040-04:00

A stiff cup of black tea and the wheels and gears begin again to turn. It's been a long day.Last night, I walked home to my apartment in the rain. The droplets were not heavy, but constant, and the air's clammy dampness clung around my dripping skin. Two ducks kept silent watch on the boardwalk; I could only make out their black silhouettes against the trembling, reflective pond. Strangely, I was

melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804029199398107018noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5718743.post-1062472175445911842003-09-01T23:09:00.000-04:002003-09-03T20:57:47.210-04:00

"He who cannot draw on three thousand years is living from hand to mouth." -Goethe *** My world is changing. A crisis? Yes, actually. Welcomed? Yes again. Something that I based my ideas of reality on has been shaken, and I am basically dodging falling rubble at this point-- in at least one area of immense importance. It would be false to say that I have not been expecting this demolition

melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804029199398107018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5718743.post-1061693315426695562003-08-23T22:48:00.000-04:002003-09-04T00:51:14.220-04:00

I've taken to writing again. A red leather book of blockpaper does not contain the space I need. So I am typing out into cyberspace, casting myself into the unknown-- of which I do not have, and could never gain, the knowledge of the ways these words will make as I type them. It is much as the spoken word, in that the speaker does not know whose ears are listening, or what the effects of their

melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16804029199398107018noreply@blogger.com0