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I've known "Desolation" before; she was a difficult taskmistress. She was cold and unforgiving; ruthless, beyond imagination. She left me nothing when she went, not even the clothes on my back. She thought she had the best of me; that I wouldn't survive. She thought the loneliness would be too much; that the waves of solitude might sweep me down. She was mistaken. We struggled till the end, "Desolation" and I; she pushing, and I trying merely to hold my own. But I knew, from past experience, the secret to surviving the battle she fought so desperately to win. That nothing can be too much; no strength much stronger than my own; no hurt that leaves too deep a scar, as long as the angels whisper: "pain….. is merely temporary." copyright 2001 bj pearce |