Cassini Flies (from great heights)

My history with blogs has been a long yet splintered path. Traversing across all sorts of engines and domains, criss-crossing back and forth, as if I were Goldilocks searching for the one that is just right.

In between periods where I don’t write at all.  I have discovered, I write when I am upset, when I am disturbed, when I am otherwise emotionally unbalanced.  When not an out but an OUT is in need.  But why bother with blogs at all?  Why not a diary or their more demure twins, journals?

In response, I have a quote:

And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
from Percy Brysshe Shelley’s poem Ozymandias

One of my favorite poems of all time.

Man, with his need to carve his own image upon the world, as if without such an object one would not be able to prove one’s existence, the sands of the desert about Ozymandias’ once colossal monolith to the power of time to scour away… practically everything.  What once was important, once monolithic, now diminished to leftover soap chips of its former self.  But what remains?  Beneath the soapsuds, among the leftovers, that has carried over?  Ensue despair.

But when is despair ever an acceptable answer?

So I say I shall settle down here once again. Pick up the digital pen to power and make my own mark upon the virtual lands. Again.

I suppose, once again, we shall see.

For anyone who wishes to know where the inception for this blog’s name/theme, read further. It’s a short. Of sorts. Well, either a short or mid-sized prose.

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