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Post by ghostjghost on Aug 10, 2010 12:25:33 GMT -5
"Chrysalis"
Somewhere beyond the clouds. Do I really want to know how far the sky is? Do I want to know the truth or do I want to keep my dream alive, Of sleeping far beyond the sky, above the clouds and mountains. I have become the chrysalis. But which me will break out? The true me or the dream self?
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Post by ghostjghost on Aug 10, 2010 12:27:08 GMT -5
This one is called "The doppelganger"
Bracing self against the fire. Hoping vainly for release. An image of despair incarnate. A mirror of hopes and dreams. Valiantly fighting a desperate battle. A chance for expression and revolution. Knowing already all is lost. Soon suppressed this mass of energy. This living thought that we do hold in image of ourselves. Never to be released except in greatest strain. The shadow self that brings down ruin.
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Post by ghostjghost on Aug 10, 2010 12:28:02 GMT -5
This one is titled "Soul Seed"
Flame spread across a darkened sky Ice forms circles around the stars silhouettes, I hear a riddle. Dancing moonlight, wandering fire, icy passion flowing higher. Decision, precision, a grass green heart. Strong, untouchable, unquenchable. A maddened desert storm, a hungering need for sustenance beyond its means. An encounter from the depths of time and space. A wondrous danger, a shard of crystalline hope. We the dream weavers know this well. We cannot claim creation, but we can help the shaping.
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Post by ghostjghost on Aug 10, 2010 12:28:59 GMT -5
"At the Library"
Walking down the paths of lore. Seeing history unfold, Watching epic battles here, Viewing myth's and flights of fancy come to life. Seeing the great scholars at their work as they unravel the great mysteries. Though not alone do they stand in this task, The various branches of the powers that be aid in detecting and securing them. Solving the riddles of life and death, keeping away those who would play god. Though not all the paths of lore lead to places so great or serious. Knowledge is kept here even of the poets in the field, and their stories of hero's rescuing their lady fair.
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Post by ghostjghost on Aug 10, 2010 12:29:55 GMT -5
"Reflection of the past"
Songs sung in the late of night. Tales of earth and crimson flame. Followed back to yesterday. Raised on a pedestal of emerald light. Lost in the fountains of spring. Shattered against the mighty winds. Songs unsung I long to sing. Telling the story to my friends. Though long ago this tale has died. With every memory it is fresh revived. When forgotten once again. It sinks forever into the sand.
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Post by ghostjghost on Aug 10, 2010 12:31:15 GMT -5
"The Stars"
I sing to the stars, my voice never reaching them. The space between us, greater then my words can convey. So far above us, Never bothered by our worries or words. Never hearing the troubles of this world. Never knowing that life moves on, every eon just the same. Floating among their peers, just dancing, sparkling forever.
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Post by ghostjghost on Aug 10, 2010 12:32:05 GMT -5
"Three Beat"
One sold drops of rain to famine ridden lands. Two dropped glass shards on the sand. Three rang silver bells for the wedding day. Song one dreary song, Song two crystal song. Song three silver song, Running with the wind. Lost one, Found one, Chasing away with sunshine. Wrong one, Right one, Living on the hill. Fishes and Moonlight, Crazy running tunes. Bouncing off the shadows, Hiding behind the stones.
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Post by ghostjghost on Aug 14, 2010 4:18:34 GMT -5
There is a firestorm of thoughts Spinning in my head, Why can't I keep them silent. Like a thousand petals Falling across a still pond of water. Bridging the gap between worlds. Separated only by size and shape.
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Post by ghostjghost on Aug 24, 2010 3:49:22 GMT -5
"Only One"
Thoughts have come and thoughts have gone. None staying long enough to stand alone. Breaking like waves upon the beach, across a single consciousness. Standing forever in a single place in an infinite black void. The black blade for purity, the white blade for poison. But does one ever truly know which blade holds the poison? Symbols are nothing but slightly higher waves. Thoughts created by the voice of thousands. Instead of the voice of one, but in the end. They are just as meaningless.
Where then do we find meaning in this infinite void. Not in the waves of thoughts that break away into nothing. Not in the void itself, which extends into forever but never changes. Only in the self, that single absolute consciousness. Walking calmly through infinity. Unaffected by the waves, undaunted by the endless journey before it. Only this has meaning.
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Post by ghostjghost on Sept 13, 2010 16:16:13 GMT -5
"Choice"
A lost soul stands on the precipice of eternity. Its fate determined by a single choice. To look forever into the past, to see all that was. Or to continue forward to see all that still may be.
It is a choice, which lingers before us all. To determine the perspective our lives will take. To change forever after how we view our world.
To effect the greatest change through this choice. Requires only the knowledge of the observer, The instinctive understanding, That it is they who make the choice and no one else.
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Post by ghostjghost on Sept 28, 2010 21:01:45 GMT -5
"Farewell To Our Friends"
The long road ends and here we go our separate ways, Our friends return to live their lives, The teachers move to another class. Answering the same questions asked a hundred different ways. All the while solidifying the answers in their own minds.
As we walk our separate ways, we remember. Remember the truth's we have learned. Remember the challenges we have surpassed. Remember the fears we have conquered. Remember each other, and the times we had together.
Who can say what was accomplished. If we learned anything at all, then we have moved forward. And forward is ever the direction we must try to travel. And if we meet again, may we travel forward together. It is both easier and better to travel forward with friends.
With many traveling the same direction, You can never lose sight of the path you are traveling.
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Post by ghostjghost on Sept 30, 2010 6:44:42 GMT -5
"Science Of The Voice"
So many things lost in a single word. Voiced words are the poorest form of communication. When a look, a shift in stance, or a slight gesture a whole world shakes.
To make the most of a word so inefficient. Requires of us study and work. To match tone and pitch to meaning. To shock with a sound and stun with one word.
They have the power to surpass when used in proper context. But rare is the man who can shape the sound to fit in all his needs. Rarer still the man who needs no sound to understand what people mean. Rarest of all the man who makes no distinction between word and thought. Such a man could not be misunderstood. His words hold power, over worlds and lives. To sift out truth from lies. To carry people on his words to the far reaches of possibility.
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Post by carpediem on Sept 30, 2010 21:40:17 GMT -5
Wow, you are a literary genius.
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Post by ghostjghost on Oct 1, 2010 11:26:39 GMT -5
Thanks, I try.
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Post by ghostjghost on Oct 8, 2010 5:47:09 GMT -5
"Betrayal"
In the eye of the storm red rivers flow. From rising moon to setting sun. See them fall one by one. Into the void, into the void.
Where once was found now is lost. Forever seeking an empty cause. Scattered by the winds and spread to ashes. Gone to us, gone to us.
Hidden in a frozen wasteland far below the world. Dimly glowing fading quartz lights. Beyond the reach of any life. Beware of trust, Beware of trust.
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