oil
What was it That first moved the paintbrush to paper That whisper that bleed through time That feeling that took over.
Smearing all the paint across canvas.
We made this life From all those happy accidents.
☮️ A quiet place to write about loud emotions 🧘
What was it That first moved the paintbrush to paper That whisper that bleed through time That feeling that took over.
Smearing all the paint across canvas.
We made this life From all those happy accidents.
my word tripped and fell then all to soon was broken now it's contracted ain't that annoying
The eruption was sudden Light cast skyward. That melted into mist, That flowed into the air around us.
We sat playing
While the Earth surged around us. Earthquakes in harmony to the sound. That blew from flutes That came from our drums That escaped from trembling metal wire
We took, the magic that was locked away. In each of us, Those lost notes that were hidden. Shimmered back free.
Some told us it was prophecy.
But for us it was just another day That for us, playing music together. Was like a snake shedding skin Another newer version hiding just within
Coloring a picture, I want to read a book.
Reading, My mind wanders about what to cook.
I put on the burner, Then remember a song I used to sing.
I remember the water and put it on. Find a hum that was forgotten.
The sun is setting, I think I should have tended the garden.
The water starts to boil.
I should have collected vegetables.
In the moment, a river Of every action I could take.
Breathing out is hard When ever second breeds mistake.
The doubts, the immature and discontentment is like the wearing away of stone. wind from an internal spring that waxes, into itself until itself crumbles
Escape is a cliffhanger.
The unknown is it's own ecstasy. Feeling your first few steps past the front door. The way, of being carefree.
Live. Dance. Learn anything.
It's all that life's promise has given to me.
ash settling after a bonfire blaze, wind lazily passing over, catching dancing with the remains peace from chaos music into the silence glutton waves lap hungrily at tossed sand. brings finality to a gathering of friends.
that's how parties end
leaves falling oddly, passing through grated fence prisons twisting as the wind pushes them downward currents pushing them back up the spiraling dance of Autumn beckoning winters court
walking in wind is getting to attend the masked ball of season so you might as well dance
i've been thinking a lot. that is usually how trouble starts.
with a fixation or hobby
with focusing on too many things
when I know, me
this ( me ) this person who just can't be one thing.
this awful being that is so consuming
it wants to burn itself out
and happy doing it, if im being honest.
But that's what being happy is right? You take all the interests and do them. You take all the people and blend them? You watch all the shows, listen to all the podcasts and take all the notes?
You mix everything together
distill.
then what's left at the bottom.
It's happiness right?
The shadow spoke to the congregation
“It's all illusion that world around us is meaningless”
“It's in meaning that we mix
“We control the destiny of things. “More than this temporary symphony
“I'm important
“I'm alive
“What's more is that this isn't about me
“It's about all of you
the shadow called out to all his fellows.
The onlookers smoky columns, flickering. Vaudevillian eyes pulsing in agreement Partially here, partially not
“We, are alive “Those 'people'” his voice dripping with venom “Are the 'them', the living...
“They don't even know HOW to live