Arthurs’ Journey

Construction has taken longer than I thought it would. The foundation is the hardest part. Directions will come soon, I will need a response that you understand where this will go before I will unveil the first part. Have you become familiar with what I asked?  

Delays of planning have left me behind. I find myself catching up and hope that you are right outside the gate letting others pass by as we plot the next step. I hope you have in the mean time become familiar with what I asked, the next few steps depend on your doing so. If you have not, you will still be able to, but do it quick, the building starts tomorrow. Remember what I said, you will be given instructions and a simple guide, but after that, no words save the title.  I think this will require a new space, a place of its own, so look for a new name and keep to the rules that will follow. They will not be rule rules, they will be our guide to building this new playground. All will make sense, but in order to construct and keep it hidden, we must each know how to pass on the hammer. The monkey is mine tomorrow, she will be with us on our little adventure. 

When you return to the Journey, bring with you what you can, for I want to build a structure, but I need and request your help. This will not be my structure alone and words will not do. This strucutre will have many limbs and limbs will be where we can hang and we can hang in stages. I will not await your return to start, but I will wait for the next stage. Become familiar with the exquisite corpse and you will know how our time will pass between us. We must takes turns, btu understand the turns before you begin. The titles alone will guide our conversation in keys for this new structure and we must not be compelled to add anything more from the keys. More to follow. Do not ask you will know when.

There is much comfort in sadness. Not the sadness of others, but the sadness of our own. It proves we feel, and means we care. It is ours and always ours to resolve. We can not barter an escape, and the journey must always be made to end our tears. The simple clear the day, the simple are often grey, and the simple make the new stay.

The beast of time is strange. It plays tricks on our minds, and our eyes are always two steps behind. In short, I grew worried, worried that you were no longer there, worried that you no longer cared, not of me, but of our game. With time I found calm, calm that you were where you were, just out side our gate, passing along the barren and the pointless, waiting as the last were out of site, before you returned your key and turned.

Here time is yours, you must learn to tame the beast. When heeled it will obey and you can make time do your bidding. There is no sand, no shapely vessel, ours wil not run out. Ours is a puzzle and time is our peace to piece together. Until then, return when you can and know I will as well.

It was long and grey yesterday, our world was quiet. These days are usually my favorites, for no one pays close attention to them, and that is when the days shift and new life starts in front of us. But yesterday was a different grey day, a day with all grey and no new to say. I am making my way through old promises, fulfilling my trust. I thought new things were in the distance. I will walk a little farther and see what I discover.