Rubeus fragmentum. Inconstans.
      I am dripping like raindrops
  Dreams:
      begotten by the stars, perhaps
      rising like a welling spring

Screw it, my brain is too mushy to write anything of consequence, only that I had married Naitadhanan, the Fated One, on a green grassy hill, and she was content and so I was content. (This is my dream) And she bore me a son who was like unto his father. And I wonder if this is a vision of what is to be, or of what could be, or of what should be, but isn’t. (In a coordinate system of x, y, z, t, and θ, where case I is t > t_now, θ = ∞; case II is t > t_now, 0 < θ < ∞, case III is t ≥ t_now, θ = 0 or maybe 0 < θ < ∞ but θ ≠ θ_{this worldline}

Whatever does it mean?

So I spoke to her today (It does not matter, I am a single mote, an insignificant speck in her world. Why am I setting myself up? God damn me.)

So I spoke to her today, though all my senses were against it, I am falling into oblivion, without hope.

Am I destined to lose my mind?

Naitadhanan smiling oh-so-prettily for the photographer, her wedding dress swirling around her like a cloud.

Like the crests of waves.

She is in my arms.

I would be happy even if θ ≠ θ_{this worldline}

I would rather die if θ = 0

She bore me a son, who is like his father, only better, with fewer flaws, fewer curses, a purer soul. And yet he is her child, as I am my mother’s and it is enough to see them (to imagine them). Love is multidimensional and ever increases.

I am making too much out of nothing.

Time to pull my head out of my ass.

Story: I really should start the one about the backwater of the Galaxy, where factions vie for the gases and the energy cubes.

The cubes can only be opened with the right key, which encoded in the clan chief’s mtDNA, which is why his daughter has to recover his body.