light heart..

That child that was, light as air, dancing raggedly without a care. Light footed, golden, shimmering gown.. Her steps are silver, glistening the ground. Hip, hop, skip and jump whirlwind whispers of dances found. That child of excitement whom blesses the ground. The glee of nigh the glee of day, all rolled in one forever play.. A soaring dream all make-believe that wing upon high the golden weave. The tapestry’s wonderful all made of soul.. No need for perfection, fantasy! What a thrilling abode.

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Another..

The room was sparse only dust and remnants of sunlight piercing through the cracks like beams of vortexes from another world. She sat and picked her fingers as she mulled over the next mistake. Always filled with optimism the thirst remained. A dew drop of memory dripped from the sill, glistening iridescently. A gasp for breath as she stood and took tide to the coming of the new. This time.. This time..

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Beauty..

But what is fear.. But a crack in the mirror of perfection. An act of insistence on looking below the crack. Alight the crack reveals two worlds if only one would look.. Gaze into the knowledge of both and drip the source of reality. In all its beauty the butterfly only became by metamorphosis. Without this world of two tales there is no whole.

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Exuberance..

Aeonian, give credence to all that burns in desire.. The core of the flame we are, the seeker of prudence. What burns is our heart, our desires for lust not knowing what’s inside the tinderbox. Flight or fantasy the whims of interest, pulling and scratching at one’s door. Following whims of panicking haunts that peer at ones soul only to reveal at last its source.   ‘satisfied’, only rests for a while before awakening again like a child in play.. In search of the next adorn. The burning flame, the fire of interest burns bright as long as there’s life.

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Resistance..

Spill blood, your open wounds gaze.. Let them dry and be free. Never lending them, never excusing them, their time will come enough.. Pour it out.. Let it be, we meld like like coats of armour. Ignorance no friend but enemy soar.. Yes, it doesn’t pay to ignore! All healed now, a miracle cure, that once was there, but there no more. The trick all along was to ‘don’t ignore!’. Ironic the intolerant whom suffer much more!

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Thought.

Away from expectations where the wind ponders and the gasp for air is natural, we elude in an unobscured vision of thought. Never, never land, a magical place of power and possibility. The empirical world chasing its dreams born from thought to rebirth. What wonder.. What manifest.. This great place of awe a magicians web. Creativity, at the mercy of thought.

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Substance..

Science plays a part in explaining things but then it loses its thread when it stumbles upon the unexplainable. The intangible left to the quantum.. Even further afield the unexplained turns to an invisible vapor, a mist like no other.. Or should I say a mystery like no other. So tangible worlds, take heed of the intangible, a starting point of everything made manifest. To deny this is to half know truths and maybe for some live in ignorant bliss. That is until that bliss is shaken and the ignorance no longer suits. It is not a necessity to acknowledge this, but for some the search for truths. In an unobtainable quest the thirst remains.

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