It has begun. The energy flows. Flows within your space. A space that seems like the void. Void that is not empty. A cry. A little cry is heard echoing in your place. You search and search, you never find. Visited. You are visited by someone who understands yet has a messy space. You learn. You work it out. You are free. The energy calls you in once more. You must help the one that helped you to run free in your new space. Afraid you are incase of losing the one. Heat. The temperature rises and sweat dribbles down your worried face. An echo calling your name. A name you have forgotten. You are confused and climb the tallest building. You are at the edge. At the verge to end it all. The time to change. The echo is heard once more. You start losing consciousness. You are about to fall but you lean backwards onto the roof. You hit the ground. You live. Running down into the street. You drop in the middle. Unconscious. Screams and cars heard. You wake. Awake on a bed facing the ceiling. Hospital. It was all a dream.
Where’s my sunflower? Has it grown yet? Is it sure to want to grow here? Does it feel the kick? I want my sunflower so I may cut it, keep it in a vase full of water, and appreciate it alone. I gently touch it’s petals and it bleeds drops of blood. Blood that gets into my soul and kills something within. Something I have never seen or said. The sunflower floats on its way back to the garden. A garden from which it should not have been removed from. I realize now I wanted something that hurts. Something that seperates two worlds as it brings them close. I shall go out. I shall float like the sunflower. A sunflower that finally found peace out of these hands. The wind will carry me. It shall take me to a place I don’t know of.
Three lines. Three lines that form a triangle. A triangle on top of another. Squashed and shaped into a circle. A wobbly circle that springs back into a triangle. A triangle that turns to stand on its point. A point that is steady. Steady as the ground. Though the ground may crack. A deep crack or a scratch. Nothing is steady, but yet flows harmoniously along the sound of a shapeless figure. A figure that brushes gently on the sides of the inverted triangle.
Bouncing along comes a little circle and topples over the triangle. The circle bounces around. Around and about, it does its thing. The triangle is left standing on its side. The triangle lives on…
I bump my head against a lamppost. I fall to the ground with the sound of sea and a smooth breeze upon my face. I dream of something real. A dream that ends in an illusion. Taking a deep breath, I wake up. Years have flown by. Being awake seems like the real dream. Send me back into deep slumber so I may live. I dont know. What is a colour that which belongs in a soul during a dream, and another that belongs to when being awake?
The pain right below, it moves slightly. At the thought of everything it hurts. Running wild in my head, stupid head. I fight to wake up in my waking part of life. I expect to see a soul waiting, but it was myself that sent it away.
Dream, dream, dream…gone with a dream.
[Morning writing - ughh don't feel like this shit... need to eat... how was your weekend?]
Here we come. The beat begins. The laughter of a boy sounds echoing. The touch of a feline on his skin. Screaming into the void. The void within the boys soul. A soul that seeks something unknown. Unknown like everything in this world. A world of dreams and illusions. Illusions that bring mystery. Mystery that takes You back to the unknown. After the time has passed the boy will seek the unknown from within his own space. A space he longs to know. A space deep within himself. The void. The scream. The feline touch. The laughter. The beat. Here we go.
Time. What is time? How can we manipulate time? I have asked and written this so many times through time. Maybe through these writings about time I can go through some portal. Maybe these writings are all linked. Words that link words form a web that captures someone or something making everything around freeze. So many maybes, I am not sure I know what I am writing.
Time passed him by before he could stop and think. He had a life, he was living, though the reason was unknown to him. He gradually grew with the rest of his friends, yet, unlike them, he lacked that one true desire of what he wanted his life to be.
His winters were cold and busy with work from school. This was the period when many ideas unraveled in his mind, but as yet none could be achieved with all the work he had. His summers were boring as he had never had a job. The ideas and desires he had in winter were all gone and forgotten. Anger made his blood rush to his face, and hated the decisions he ever made. He thought his life was terrible.
He was a creative person but did not know it. The way education taught him suppressed his talent, as he was taught of doing things the way everyone does. He was different and his way of doing things took much longer, but it satisfied him.
No longer was his talent suppressed, but it shined out of him instead. He always had the wish of publishing his own novel, though as this desire was unfulfilled, he published his own writings on his very own blog.
Even though the blog was not popular or any good, he felt that it was a good start to fulfilling his unfulfilled desire. This was his best way of teaching himself, rather than the stereotypical education; or so he thought.
Laying alone on the wet grass smelling the fresh air before sunrise. My hands open face up beside me, empty. Tiny lights in the sky glitter as memories fly through my head; childhood memories. I close my eyes as I start to give up. Thoughts that belong to a pessimistic person run through my head.
Until someone came to lay beside me, holding my hand and staring at the starry sky. I open my eyes, look into the eyes on my right and back at the sky. The thoughts I had are now gone and I simply Smile. I realize now that I always knew who I was, I simply did not notice it. I feel Alive.
Alive, but don’t know what to do. I look beyond the stars and think, “All I Can Do Is Keep Breathing”.
There lived an old man who had nothing in his life apart from his little blanket, the clothes he wore, and a flask of water. One day he found a little pile of wood and a penknife on top. He decided to spend the rest of that day creating something. Late at night he looked at his creation; a bald, naked puppet girl. He went to sleep and did not wake up the next morning.
The puppet was kicked around by passing people who were too busy to care. She soon ended up in the trash can. Suddenly she sprang to life. As she got out of the trash, strings started to attach to her arms, legs, and head from above. They guided her through her journey. She wanted to be like her creator; to give birth to something after she dies. She soon found a seed and preserved it throughout her life.
Years passed and the strings started to fade as she became more and more independent. One morning she went to the fields like usual and buried her seed. After she did so she fell to the ground into a pile of wood once again.
She saw her creator walking towards her, and together they stepped into the Light. She had no fear, the only thing that crossed her mind was that Everything Happens For A Reason.
I wrote this when I was much younger. I modified it a little, as it was too plain. (I just love to read things I have forgotten about) XD
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