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jǫrð Apr 2019
𝘏𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘥𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦
𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘹𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤
𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘯
The History:
I just signed the lease to my first place with the help of a couple angels. Moving always gives me a sense of dread. I guess it's the unknown, the wild, the lack of control that scares me the most. Alas, I am optimistic-ish.
WhiteWolf101 Nov 2020
He came back
And said to me
“Would you wanna try again?”
But I have her
Even after the heartbreak
Even after the heartache
I still love him
So I’m stuck in the middle
For him
Or for her
Who should I fight for?
Cait Nov 2020
I walk alone down the empty street,
I look at the cars all parked closely to the curb.
Then I see you - a ray of hope in a world of darkness.
Unknowing to all the horrible atrocities that surround you.
You are perfect, not yet broken, not yet flawed.
You are a new beginning; you prove that second chances can exist.
So, as I see you, the little bud coming to life as I speak; I remember this.
Life may not be kind to you.
Life may hurt you.
Life may break you.
But you must not let it change you.
Life is full of unpredictability and surprises, some good and some bad.
But one thing is for sure, second chances exist.
You are proof of this; proof that we can change in time.
Proof that we can have a new beginning.
Kristin Oct 2020
I picked up a rock 
from the bed 
of a rivulet
slowly trickling, yet vibrant

It wiggled
It squirmed
in transparent
vulnerability

A larval miracle
clinging to life
pulled from the mother river
exposed to the cold air

This tiny force
is just as alive
as me
and perhaps more so

I placed the stone 
back into the trickle
of the river
hoping it lives

How much compassion 
do we have for the smallest
of the small
the beginnings

How much compassion 
do we have for the vulnerable
for what's just beginning to grow
ideas, people

How much compassion 
do we have
to put the stone back
rather than take it for ourselves
I turn the last page,
The next is blank.

Blank blank blank blank blank
Blank blank blank blank blank
Blank blank blank blank blank
Blank blank blank blank blank

B L A N K

                                   Blank

So white it's screaming
So empty I’m left reeling

The lack of words
A void so loud
I squint my eyes unseeing.

I don’t think I’m ready yet
I dont think I'll ever be,
It hurts too much to be alone
Is this the price of being free?
2wo Oct 2020
Do you know what it's like to lose the thing that means everything?
It's like living without a soul.
But still..worry not
For your soul left in search of the next thing that will become your everything
preston Sep 2020
the forming of substance
Stephan W
(stepped out to get some air, and never came back..)


It presses its face
against the inside of the glass-like globe,
It is vaporous, unformed; globule. It can
experience the moment.. but, formless--
it is unable to hold onto the knowledge
of that experience.
It is  k n o wn  by Glory-- referred to as; being
~
There is laughter in the newborn baby's sleep..
dreams- present-moment flashes--
of funnyface smears, left there-
on the outside of the globe by the angels;
Left only to a startled jump, and then tears--
the initial shock.. the aloneness of being born-
into the imperfect world of potentiality,
and into the new and as of yet unfamiliar feeling
of unmet needs.
The glass encased Perfection gives way into
the only true access into love--
found only in the movement towards volition,
as the crystalline-like glass
that once encased the spirit
is now traded for skin.
And so that which once experienced Glory
from within the protection of the glass sphere
now enters into the world of participation--
first, though- as an infant..
wholly dependent on those
who (hopefully) will give
who will nurture.
~ ~
Perfection gives way to incompleteness
made perfect again only through love--
Touch brings love right up to to the skin,
baby takes it in.. unconditionally,
yet, in a way
still pre- volitional-ly--
It is outside the globe, now-
and spirit is participating in its own needs;
the little baby cries.. no longer 'complete'
and protected within the sphere
Now wholly dependent on love and care-
from the outside.. taken in, solely
through the repetition of warmth
and the primal longing for its own gift--
that of volition.

Yes..
a small baby has now become
a little higher than the angels.


"And there was evening
and there was morning--
the first day."

08/12/17
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2020
Under
The canopy tree
My shelter
Of light
Pulled me
Into its shadow
And
There
Operosely so
I remembered:

In memorization
Of varied
Maths
And
The columns they path
And
How they became
Feminine
And all about how
She looked and felt
Underwater

She was
Pale
And
Pearl
And diamond light
Off shore
And
Off the shoulder
My boat still afloat
Yet her waves indeed
The sinking of me

But then
In the peril
Of natation
The shiver
And the taste of salt

What entered my heart
Was the same
As filled up my lungs:

Anticipation:

The microcosm of
Pain
Or pleasure
Or both demises
At once
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