ladyoftime: (split screen uncertain)
The Doctor ([personal profile] ladyoftime) wrote2009-12-21 10:25 pm

something blue.

Crop circles in the sand. The universe always starts with riddles. They’re her downfall, the mysteries. She’s like an object caught in their orbit, endlessly looping them in messy circles, inspecting, taking the pieces of the puzzles in her hands and searching for the shape of how they’re put together.

Sometimes the pieces are made of glass, and they cut her hands. Sometimes– sometimes. But she can’t put them down, because she has to know, and that’s the paradox of her mind, endlessly drawn to that which will hurt her.

This is old. This is ancient, written in hieroglyphs only men with ghosts in their minds and dust on their hands can translate.

The universe is immutable. Energy and heat, these are forms that will always exist. Only the shapes change, become new in their paths. They fascinate her, the shapes of things. Like a child caught in the wonder of a colourful mobile, she is so dazzled by an unexpected turn that she forgets the endings will all be the same. Entropy takes hold, the constant of the universe.

This is not new. The newness is perceptions of the universe, ever-changing. The newness is the ability to look at a piece of the universe as if it’s never been seen before, as if it isn’t made up of the same matter, energy, heat as a million pieces before it, the same building blocks that have endured for time immemorial. She marvels in her companions’ abilities to make the old new, and in her wonder forgets her own talent for the re-imagining of the universe. From them, she learns, and that’s new; and with them, she forgets, and learns anew. It’s a borrowed gift, one she’ll have to give back someday.

For now, though, she has it. For now, the universe is full of mystery, even when it slices her hearts open to know it. And because it is so filled, she will always renew, always emerge in life. The day it ceases to amaze her is the day she’ll breathe her last, and become part of the immutable pattern.

Today.

Today is not that day.

And that’s new, too.



Community: [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
Prompt: 313 - Write about something old, something new, or something borrowed.
Word count: 360