Pisces Summit {d7 ; cb}

My brain makes drugs to keep me slow,
A hilarious joke for some dead pharaoh.
But now, not even the masons know
What drug will keep night from coming.

Quiet, reflective, and deep, he might be a pool someone was describing in the forest. Like a pool, he houses a selection of living things in the form of dreams. His dreams skitter over the surface of his mind like water skeeters, never staying in one place long enough for him to catch them.

Romantic like the light dappling through the leaves, he just needs that special someone to share the view with. As time passes with no sign of a companion, he falls into shadow and sinks into mud. Bogged down in his own pity it is hard for him to remain steadfast. However, he follows life like a stream bed, twisting and turning with the changing landscape before he even knows he has moved.

A hand run through water leaves the same ripples on the pools surface as a person's words in his thoughts. Easily inspired, but also easily deterred, he often shifts course partway through a task as he is dragged away by the current of another idea.

The deep roots of his family, spread wide throughout the District, catch him and hold him close. As the cycle continues, he aids his family in what way he can. He is fully absorbed into the life of his siblings and cousins, always wanting to supply them with relief when he can and quench their anxieties with his calm demeanor.

Once more a trickling pool, he rests in the shade, waiting for the next leaf to touch down on the surface.

You never held it at the right angle,
Catch a, catch a, catch a, catch a falling star,
But wash your hands of it
Because you can't own it.