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Literature
Fields and Fields and Endless Fields
He looks on across sprawling fields
of futures and possibilities.
Behind him is a pin prick--the past. The
linear thing that happened.
It's there, like a root, underground,
surrounded by dirt and worms.
It's there, bursting from seed and
pressing to the surface. Always pressing
into the fields.
The past is the root. We are the tree.
The fields make up the rest.
And the fields are where the
magic happens. They're a playground of sorts.
Full of possibilities. Governed by illusions.
Ruled by nothing that can be controlled.
Dangerous and deadly and too
big to comprehend.
So he looks across them all, fields and fields and
endle
Literature
A day never traveled by
Time used to be linear for us
Where Friday to Monday happened in a blink
Yet people twist their times and split away
Now I'm moving to Monday while they're on Friday
I was able to see them after the weekend
Say "Good morning" and "Goodbye"
Before they stepped into another existence
That I cannot venture, no matter my persistence
When I close my eyes
After many days and one final night
Will I be able to catch up?
Is waiting enough?
Literature
Youth
A thousand burning candles
lighting up a temple.
With the quenching of the last flickering flame
the aegis falls,
and the sacred building crumbles.
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The fact that it has been written sept. last year, I'm wondering how are you doing now...
Kinda afraid myself regarding this work thing when I'm out of this studying thing.lulz
Kinda afraid myself regarding this work thing when I'm out of this studying thing.lulz