HowToBeRadiant

Every moment is a fleeting ocean, every person an island, every thought a breeze. All seconds pass by, All days become hours, All clouds broken by the sun. My heart is content, I smile even through the storm, that too will pass. Every day my heart grows weary, Every ocean frozen through ice, Every breeze is now still or stormy. All seconds pass by, All days never end, All blue skies evered in gray. My smile quiver, I wondered why you went away, and where you are now. Every second, I think. Every word I say, Every day I fight. All moments I forget, All moments I feel, All the things you told me. And my bitter heart breaks, by the che

The morning grows beady eyed, the moon sulks but cried long ago. Jealous of the sun's cascading shine, he cries for attention, maybe justifiedly so. Wishing for appreciation, but neglected and deprecated, blue inside but gray to all else, but little does he know. Of the little boy that dreams, on long nights, to make his home up there. On the true vantage point of beauty, looking out into the darkness, on the frontier of new possabilities.

To this day we wipe our eyes with happy tears, the time we spent for many days, weeks, and years, they were told to be wasted by all we knew, but we know that within the lights was a story. Where people lost lives and gained love, where hate were spewed and adoration was shared. Where we made friends and had fun, where we had wars and only sometimes won. It was a place where we belonged, where many of our journeys started, some which have yet to ended, and some which failed with scraped knees. A patting arm on the shoulder when we cried, and a loving embrace when we reached milestones, we knew that within each letter was a story, but even

By the hands of Creation, come by the palms of woe, quoted by distraction, to be seen as chilling snow. Tears falling cold on solid ground, walking wasted wastes long behind. Aye; how the world could go around, if it could rewind. By the wish of Uncreation, shaking heads die with lethargy. The sun wanes to worldy restrictions; and the world still spins full of energy.

Winged curtains flutter from the open window, a chilly wind shut out the flaming hearth, the brimstone embers leave but seeds to sow, of will and courage, forged from the strongest earth. "So raise thine sword, you my puppet, come and fight me to the floor, become a bloodness marrionette, and slay me in life's moor." The soup it tastes grimey, clotted, thick and slimey, foul and smelling of rotten gore, s'all they have, so please some more. "Aye no, dearest lord, bloodless or not, I shall not fell you by my sword - and turn around and spin around, to ease this chestbound knot." So; oozing gritty bedding, sleeping there and then shedding,

A dreary gray, the ceiling gave, way for heaven, so gray, I wait no longer, for the grave. A song. 'tis dismal, chilling to the bone, a tolling bell, the empty ring of the phone. And the bed, my home for now, and for later, creaking like a Crow. Aye, the dismal gray, tolling like a bell in the distance, and the effort, a miasma for the mind.