multi-verse

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It is time Navita. Consider this a snippet, a taste, a short whimsical grace of what you have coming.

Oh Navita. The wonders of what comes next.

You are obviously highly intelligent, perhaps more than anyone else on this forum? But then that's a myth we can dispel, or, rather it's subjective, no? Perhaps it's also subjective? What Navita, does it matter? Oh nothing Navita. It matters not. In your writing I see a reaching out to everything, a utilization of techniques and form and content and theory to its fullest! Yes, I see Kylan in you, and others as well. And who is Navita? What a voice I thought you had, but where is that voice now?

Oh Navita, I read your writing and I see everything reaching to one point. One distinct yearning. These selections from a famous poem from a poet cruxed between two culture, two times, crushed and mourned by the society and cultures he loved. Eliot and the new age murdered him and he went maddeningly insane. Here we are Navita, what reminds me of you in everything you write.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

and then the final phrase from the last stanza

For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.

Do you see? No, you don't. And you never will. This is the meaning of life Navita, and I am holding the Holy Grail eternally over your head, insert Greek references here as well. Maybe some Eastern Asian ones as well. But the point remains, this is it for you. And this is how you grow. But you aren't typical. No. I wonder how far you could go? To the actual review, I won't look at anything you wrote specifically. In messages yes, but I have enough from you. And it would be silly to look at this NaPo individually. Yes. The following will do just fine.

Navita, a line is protruding from your chest, spanning the globe from heavens to dirt, into hell, and to Mother Goose tales read to children from TV screens when mother and father are too busy scrounging for unemployment benefits.
Navita is this your name? I take you as a genuine flask of bourbon and champagne, an old friend always willing to go forward to the next page and not regret a change. I call you a fairy, and I see you a fairy, and I wonder what your voice sounds like; can you shatter glass?
Navita I'm not singing to you now, just writing to you while sitting in a Grimms Fairy Tale's class, writing you a love letter from yourself given to the world in poetry; a love letter? Words are so misleading, much less bothering with reason.
Navita, an amusing conversation and stimulating tribulations are at hand and discussions provoke a gag reflex as children file onto a bus; do you prefer meaning or imagery with your tea?
Navita I don't like your voice either, it's too bothered with things that don't matter; declarations statements, but where is your life Navita?
Navita give yourself up to meaning; stop analyzing. Yeats is crying for the human child, Yeats is dying for the human child, Yeats was writing for you Navita, and you will never find out why.
Navita the people thirst for you like Ambrosia and heroine, and I don't certainly know much beyond your devotion and passion and intense study, but that's superficial, as the view of Gender Interpretations of Bluebeard and Cinderella; osh by gosh darling, literature can be damningly annoying to talk about forever, and ever, and ever.
Navita there are no interesting or suiting literary devices for literature; it's drunk with itself and picking its own nose and pretending it somehow relates to the common man.
Navita I want to break your bones and crack your skull and take your fairy wings and drop you on the street and see where you wonder and where you go, and watch you work and watch you fail; I am not grisly Navita, I am not Mustard, I am the meaning you cannot understand wishing you to see the world as I see.
Navita do you ever watch the ocean for hours on end and feel perplexed as to why you exist, a giant laundry machine washing laundry we can never sort through?
Navita thank god you're not in the Ivory Tower, but mon amie I feel I'm watching from the canyon side as you walk across the water and don't realize it's lovely to be crushed under pressure.
Navita, where is the journey if you've never gotten off the horse, never asked the horse its name, never wondered if everything written doesn't mean what it says? The line is cracking Navita, let it break.

Expect actual analysis and criticism in messages, this ought to do well enough. Over-analyze this and the point is lost. Happy rest of NaPo my new intriguing friend.

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But that was
in my dream, love; this river’s hardly flooded, the rain
is softfall, yet; see, only the hills are blurred, not the spacebars of
dreams, or palms, surely.

^ I love that part.

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I'm irrevocably in love with #18. So much character.