Gabi Graceffo
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Notes

A study mix for all the procrastinators out there.

"It is often those whose minds are constantly aflame, neurons bent toward imagination and imagination bent toward wonderment, that find peace in knowledge. Knowledge not known, and questions unanswered, these are the most deplorable of possibilities, so those whose brains are electrified with the quest for information must constantly seek out these answers, for it is that knowledge that keeps them alive and breathing."


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@ardent_nyctophiliac @rhiannonkatie18 Here's a poem I wrote a while back about WWI called "Someday Rain":

It is we humans who walk the bitter graves,
Treading carelessly, drenched in someday-rain—
Rain, we long ago forgot to feel.
We wait listlessly, handbags worn weary by time,
Standing by carousels that no longer spin,
Shattered bulbs and rusted beasts whose open mouths
Bespeak of children’s laughter and parents’ smiles.
It is here that we felt the someday-rain,
When the world was new.

Then steel forged armies and iron steeled men
Women stood on the battlegrounds of their hearts—
Lonely, bitter, ashen things, those hearts—
And children wound their skeletons around barbed wire and
Coughed against the polluted air.
Time, that restless god, seemed to still,
Shaking and sputtering, the gears grinding to a halt
As the train of the timeline was forever broken.
War is not a natural thing, this burning of self without remorse,
Immolation of the highest calling and lowest pits
And yet it is the most natural thing to humans.

The world collected itself, ironclad and steel-bound,
And marched itself into oblivion
Its boots sank in the quagmire of regret and
It sweat forgotten promises, sour and reeking
When those it left behind, those abandoned in the light,
Tried to put a mirror to its face, it looked away
Because it could not bear itself.
The rain fell the day the world lost itself to man—
Succulent drops against helmets and blood-caked hands.
The rain poured from the heavens that had turned away long ago
And not a soul cared to notice.

Cannons and bayonets formed the surface of this war,
But it was far more than metal that broke the world.
It was the day that the world forgot itself that it truly fell.
The women would stand at their windows, watching the rain,
Children at their hip,
The children who used to play on the carousel in town,
Now forgot their father’s faces and mother’s smiles
But when these children went to feel the grass beneath their toes,
The world bloody and broken around them, hoping, hoping to feel new again
The someday-rain fell upon them,
And they turned up their faces to the sky,
And they laughed.

 
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