A promise is formed when knowledge is refracted off of a thousand words suspended within our faith.
Having faith in the promise of fate we shall find the promise sealed upon the mouth of love where from the echoes of life resound where to hands be joined upon it's string.
Through painful toil at first living is a struggle yet through their unity and endurance the music will sing strongly though the air - a message of hope.
For those who seek comfort in a world of parades where rain brings nothing, a keeper of keys and a bitter-sweet instrument will bring healing to the infected ears of the masquerading.
A parade may be louder than the rain,
yet I find more comfort among the falling words
than I do as a part of the colorful actions of this world.
Perhaps I am naive to place such trust in the rain,
but it promises healing and growth.
I have heard it said that in the beginning there was the word
and the word was God and the word was with God.
So is it so bad to place so much hope in the words
that spatter conversation down to the streets below?
I won't ask you not to rain on my parade,
just keep your rain pure and clear,
free from the pollutions of this world,
that it might give the healing it promises.
Grace is like a piano, it plays on both sides - sometimes somber, sometimes light. But it always tells a story. It's a jail keeper with 88 keys and there is nothing more powerful than handling them. It's melodies can bring people to tears or leave people dancing for days after a lighthearted tune. It's cold to the touch, black and white to the eyes but paints a world of color to the ears. It is like a stilled mime, who has up his tormented motions for the art of sound. A jail keeper clicking past with keys at his waist band and all I have to do to be free from these bars is sit down and play out on the key's of grace.
They say that Time travel is impossible,
but the first Time I held in my arms
I knew that what they said was wrong.
Time traveled with me everywhere,
We traveled to the Future everyday.
I was given the Past and given Time,
The present I gave away and
The Future held me fast.
A Promise on the wings of Acceptance,
Fluttering through the sky,
Promises are just illusion, little bits of sunlight caught up within raindrops.
Curved up in the sky,
Acceptance flutters from flower to flower,
Gentle as a Clock.
I don't want to listen to you
When you say:
"Life isn't full of Rainbows and Butterflies"
I heard he's gay.
We danced in Conversation,
As it fell from the sky upon us,
Our senses pricked,
We were drench in its cool words,
We were above it,
As it pooled at our feet,
It streamed down the gutter,
Words each so small,
All together forming a storm,
It may make me sick,
But I'll dance in Conversation
When ever the Forecast is right.
I have hardly ever seen the Original unaccompanied by Acknowledgement.
Wherever they wander, they are joined hand in hand,
Acknowledgement plays Love with a flair,
For Acknowledgement is one with alittle Original affection.
His recognition does not really pay the ordinary,
His presence with the them is brief for he finds their sugar-sweet realities too flighty,
For the Original has the charm of a bell and has but to ring,
Before Acknowledgement comes to sweep her away.
Sin chases after a wisp in the wind.
And Life has taught me that once
Time has been lost, it cannot be regained.
My heart yearns to regain lost Time.
Yet I find that I play Love quite poorly
And the Peace I once found in Time
Has been lost with Time in itself.
So often pain is played out as a bitter tantrum, reveling distastefully in the back of one's hearts. But in his pain he brought forth one of the most beautiful melodies I had ever dared to chance upon. His eyes locked upon the the sun, never breaking from it's brilliant glare. Notes upon the air despairingly rang out as the it sank farther from his view. With a swift movement the bow unleashed its fury, his plaintive heart bleeding sweetly in the shadows. Golden light spilled upon his bleeding heart as the sun began to set. The night drawing ever closer and yet he continued played through the twilight hours.
Enchantment lay upon m
A promise is formed when knowledge is refracted off of a thousand words suspended within our faith.
Having faith in the promise of fate we shall find the promise sealed upon the mouth of love where from the echoes of life resound where to hands be joined upon it's string.
Through painful toil at first living is a struggle yet through their unity and endurance the music will sing strongly though the air - a message of hope.
For those who seek comfort in a world of parades where rain brings nothing, a keeper of keys and a bitter-sweet instrument will bring healing to the infected ears of the masquerading.
A parade may be louder than the rain,
yet I find more comfort among the falling words
than I do as a part of the colorful actions of this world.
Perhaps I am naive to place such trust in the rain,
but it promises healing and growth.
I have heard it said that in the beginning there was the word
and the word was God and the word was with God.
So is it so bad to place so much hope in the words
that spatter conversation down to the streets below?
I won't ask you not to rain on my parade,
just keep your rain pure and clear,
free from the pollutions of this world,
that it might give the healing it promises.
Grace is like a piano, it plays on both sides - sometimes somber, sometimes light. But it always tells a story. It's a jail keeper with 88 keys and there is nothing more powerful than handling them. It's melodies can bring people to tears or leave people dancing for days after a lighthearted tune. It's cold to the touch, black and white to the eyes but paints a world of color to the ears. It is like a stilled mime, who has up his tormented motions for the art of sound. A jail keeper clicking past with keys at his waist band and all I have to do to be free from these bars is sit down and play out on the key's of grace.
They say that Time travel is impossible,
but the first Time I held in my arms
I knew that what they said was wrong.
Time traveled with me everywhere,
We traveled to the Future everyday.
I was given the Past and given Time,
The present I gave away and
The Future held me fast.
She found her Peace with Time,
Warm in gentle in her arms,
He was old, slightly worn,
and always the same.
She couldn't figure Life out,
Life confused her,
No matter what she did,
She just couldn't understand Life.
She felt lost, confused,
Longing to understand,
Broke her compass,
She fell to Sin for advice.
He told her to give Life her Time,
She found Life and gave him Time,
And now Time rots on shelf alone,
A forgotten stage prop, never used.
A Promise on the wings of Acceptance,
Fluttering through the sky,
Promises are just illusion, little bits of sunlight caught up within raindrops.
Curved up in the sky,
Acceptance flutters from flower to flower,
Gentle as a Clock.
I don't want to listen to you
When you say:
"Life isn't full of Rainbows and Butterflies"
I heard he's gay.
Sin chases after a wisp in the wind.
And Life has taught me that once
Time has been lost, it cannot be regained.
My heart yearns to regain lost Time.
Yet I find that I play Love quite poorly
And the Peace I once found in Time
Has been lost with Time in itself.
We weren't supposed to sit on the table. I did it
anyway. She told me to sit on a chair. I refused.
Instead I sat upon the lap of another sitter near I
and they lifted me up and set me into the lap of
Sin.
He was very warm.
I had seen him before, in the cafeteria kissing
boys and cross dressing, not that he was gay.
He was just flamboyant, he had a warm way of
saying it and for that reason it was not hard to
believe him.
I've always been cold.
It didn't take me long to realize that he liked me,
the sitter who's lap I had sat upon refused to
leave me unaware.
She took full credit for our relationship.
I suppose I felt w
Current Residence: Mission to Mars deviantWEAR sizing preference: Medium Personal Quote: "At the core of my being I have not a heart, but a star and I am all that surrounds it."
A for Advice
B for Books
C for Correction
D for Dancing
E for Excitement
F for Freedom
G for Guard
H for High
I for Intuition
J for Justice
K for Kissing
L for Love
M for More
N for No
P for Please
Q for Quiet
R for Rest
S for Soft
T for Ties
U for Up
V for Vision
W for Wonder
X for Xylem
Y for Yet
Z for Zen
Okay, so that's sort of a random. I sat down to write an assignment and the first thing I wrote was advice, then books and then corrections, which is slightly ironic. "A-b-c" and it just continued to digress from there. And alas, yes indeed, I did just post this. Shocked?
P.S. Since you read this you have been ta
Dear me,
Today you've finally remembered the reason you originally wanted to become an artist. When you were younger you were filled with wonder and fascination for people. You thought that they were beautiful and you wanted them to know that. You wanted with all your heart to capture their beauty so that they could see how beautiful they were. That day you were four years old, you told your parents that you wanted to become an artist and it was the only goal in life you never gave up.
Despite this over time you forgot that deep love for people. All you remembered was that you were supposed to be an artist, a title without purpose. But for