Me, I always wanted frost power." "Frost power?" "Yeah." Seth gestured dramatically toward my coffee table. "If we're talking superhero abilities. If I had frost power, I could wave my hand, and suddenly that whole thing would be covered in ice." "Not frost?" "Same difference." "How would frost and/or ice power help you fight crime?" "Well, I don't know that it would. But it'd be cool.
I am the King of Frost Giants. And if you've seen any of the Frost Giants, you know that I am, of course, the Napoleon of Frost Giants. We've got some massive, fabulous guys who dwarf me and come in at around eight-and-a-half feet, nine feet. But, no. Can't you tell by the commanding presence? I am the boss.
Frost grows on the window glass, forming whorl patterns of lovely translucent geometry. Breathe on the glass, and you give frost more ammunition. Now it can build castles and cities and whole ice continents with your breath's vapor. In a few blinks you can almost see the winter fairies moving in... But first, you hear the crackle of their wings.
Frost grows on the window glass, forming whorl patterns of lovely translucent geometry. Breathe on the glass, and you give frost more ammunition. Now it can build castles and cities and whole ice continents with your breath's vapor. In a few blinks you can almost see the winter fairies moving in . . . But first, you hear the crackle of their wings.
Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness! This is the state of man: today he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, tomorrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him: The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And - when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening - nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Carpe Diem By Edna Stewart Shakespeare, Robert Frost, Walt Whitman did it, why can't I? The words of Horace, his laconic phrase. Does it amuse me or frighten me? Does it rub salt in an old wound? Horace, Shakespeare, Robert Frost and Walt Whitman my loves, we've all had a taste of the devils carpe of forbidden food. My belly is full of mourning over life mishaps of should have's, missed pleasure, and why was I ever born? The leaf falls from the trees from which it was born in and cascade down like a feather that tumbles and toil in the wind. One gush! It blows away. It's trampled, raked, burned and finally turns to ashes which fades away like the leaves of grass. Did Horace get it right? Trust in nothing? The shortness of Life is seventy years, Robert Frost and Whitman bared more, but Shakespeare did not. Butterflies of Curiosities allures me more. Man is mortal, the fruit is ripe. Seize more my darling! Enjoy the day.
The grand scheme of a life, maybe (just maybe), is not about knowing or not knowing, choosing or not choosing. Perhaps what is truly known can't be described or articulated by creativity or logic, science or art - but perhaps it can be described by the most authentic and meaningful combination of the two: poetry: As Robert Frost wrote, a poem 'begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It is never a thought to begin with.' I recommend the following course of action for those who are just beginning their careers or for those like me, who may be reconfiguring midway through: heed the words of Robert Frost. Start with a big, fat lump in your throat, start with a profound sense of wrong, a deep homesickness, or a crazy lovesickness, and run with it.
I STAND AT THE END OF TIME, ON THE SHORES OF WINTEREICH. SILENCE LAY ON THE LANDSCAPE FROZEN WITH SNOW. BEFORE ME THE MIGHTY GATES OF PURE GLASSLIKE ICE. I'M ALONE IN HEAVY SNOW IN WHITE LONELINESS. IN DISTANCE THUNDER'S RAGING AND IT'S COMING NEAR. I LISTEN TO THE ROAR AND HEAR A VOICE THAT'S CALLING ME. "COME MY CHILD DON'T FEAR TO ENTER INTO MY DOMAIN." WHITE FROZEN KINGDOM OF ICE - INTO BLINDING COLD OF LIGHT I FEEL THE FROST OF PURITY - COLD ENERGY ENTERS ME - WINTEREICH. I WALK INTO THE STORM, IN THE HEART OF WINTEREICH. I GO THROUGH THE GATES AND UP THE SNOWBOUND ICY STAIRS. FIERCE WIND BLOWS BUT I KEEP WALKING INTO HALL OF ICE. "WELCOME HOME MY CHILD I HAVE BEEN EXPECTING YOU". WHITE FROZEN KINGDOM OF ICE - INTO BLINDING COLD OF LIGHT I FEEL THE FROST OF PURITY - COLD ENERGY ENTERS ME - WINTEREICH. WHITE FROZEN KINGDOM OF ICE - INTO BLINDING COLD OF LIGHT I FEEL THE FROST OF PURITY - COLD ENERGY ENTERS ME ALLEGORY OF MY DREAM - COLD AS ICE PURE AS LIGHT I SUBMIT MYSELF TO THEE - INTO EYE OF THE STORM - WINTEREICH.