SunshineAndDaisies

Clean were her nails, and empty were her hands; When all seems lost, forever in the desert sands A blank sheet of paper, the starkest of white, Sailing through memory, memories bright Where once there was feeling and passions fierce; Where once there was ability to conquer fears Now all that remains is light; for only in the light we see the things from which we hide, the things from which we flee Her fingers were stained with ink, her paper littered with words; her pen moved swiftly, and surely as the birds One does not forget or lose it all; there’s always the ink to cushion one’s fall

As he walked along the street the raindrops drummed the ground. The staccato pounding of the water sang through the air, the water caressed the waxy green leaves before being torn away again, slamming against the forest floor. The path was barely lit, the colours of the woods merely emphasised by the feeble light seeping through the thick, suffocating clouds. His hair was dark, darker than usual in its wet state and lay slick against his forehead and around his ears; water was dripping off the tip of his nose, and clung to his eyelashes as if for dear life. He was not certain whether he was hurrying towards one thing, or fleeing from another

Little bird, little bird weeping in a tree Singing for a brighter day when far away you'll flee Little bird, little bird caught in madman's net Sighing in complete despair when the final day is met

Despite the past the motley pattern, the southbound spiral, the heavy pressure   on one's shoulders Irrespective   of it all I hold light which will ultimately -hopefully- prevail.

And as the rose petals pelted the ground they dented the soil and shook the world as furiously as any boulder ever could

Maybe one ought to believe, the things that seldom occur; for eyes will never deceive, thus heart and mind will concur Maybe one ought just to trust what one's intuition tells, and take the time to adjust to the life of the rebels Maybe one should simply smile; accept the  badly wrapped gift which is life, and in true style allow one's spirits to lift

People vanish people die people live people fly How could I vanish? How could I die? How will I live? When will I fly?

The trek I started with a run, leaving paths, creating my own; of qualms or regrets I had none when into the race I was thrown As the rocky sides grew steeper, and mistakes must never be made, the ocean below seemed deeper, the lush green ground started to fade Slowly the end came into view, appearing behind a fluffed cloud; ending that which I always knew, and leaving me laughing aloud

In a hall they meet in a hall they greet embracing like old friends There they remember in cold december how all the stars would shine And then as they part they find that the start will for ever be ahead

A toothless smile, between rosy cheeks Saved in a file, at which no one peeks A rusting bike broken, in the shed A forgotten hike lost in one's head Hidden away, though present always When thoughts set asway, the memories blaze