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Literature Text
In our prime
We strain our ligaments
In a desperate reach, for clout and eternity
To be preserved
In timeless fortune
To stew in the marshes
Of bottomless reverence
Some are concealed
From the bustling world
To be pried from the earth
In hours of desperate rummaging
Recovered
Restored to full stature
Matters not to the few
At comfort in their thankless endeavors
The glad and unfazed
Shall truly reap the day
We strain our ligaments
In a desperate reach, for clout and eternity
To be preserved
In timeless fortune
To stew in the marshes
Of bottomless reverence
Some are concealed
From the bustling world
To be pried from the earth
In hours of desperate rummaging
Recovered
Restored to full stature
Matters not to the few
At comfort in their thankless endeavors
The glad and unfazed
Shall truly reap the day
Literature
Cycles
Everything moves in cycles, From love to hate and back again. Old orders fall and new orders rise. We are born, live, grow old and die. Carried by the flow of time, Like a surfer riding a tidal wave. Precariously balancing, Between order and chaos, Between holding on and letting go. Feeling at once insignificant And somehow as vast as the ocean. As the spheres of fate turn, So my mind changes in synchronicity, From sanity to madness, Science giving way to magic, Rising from the abyss of my soul, Like a song of terrible beauty, Resonating both inside and out, Until the wave has passed, And I walk on alien shores.
Literature
Yu-Gi-Oh! 5Ds- Yusei's Weakness
(There is not as much tickling as I usually do, but I am stil proud of this story and Yu-Gi-Oh is still one of my most favorite anime of all time.) To say that Yusei's life had changed would be the understatement of the century. He never thought that he would actually have the life that he was currently living and yet he was living the best life that he could have only dreamed up before. Especially since he had literally been living underground previously. The skilled duelist had not only taken the title of the Master of Faster from his old friend/rival, Jack, but he also had teamed up with his friends in order to duel and defeat the Dark Signers. He still had the symbol of the Crimson Dragon's head on his arm, but he had grown really fond of it. Especially since it also marked a deep connection with some of the greatest friends that he ever had. Jack could still be as arrogant as he was before being defeated at the Fortune Cup, but he was now back to being a good friend for
Literature
Miracles
There were no more miracles that year -
no child snatched back
at the edge of the cold lake
in January
or the deep sickness
of winter
sent fleeing from the bones
of old ladies.
Roots in the spring
did not untangle
and bring warmth to the orchards,
turning stones to apples
and the soft air of April
did not quicken in the sun
and grow into a forest.
Summer did not bring
back the birds.
The swallows had left
their nests all burning,
And the August nights
did not pull the stars
one by one out of orbit
and set them
on a new course.
No, the year had only grown
old and careless
and left the young men
to once again
walk out on wings.
![[NF] Stalhorse](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/6fc722b3-1371-497f-b0af-63d86519f550/de00frl-f133ae8f-2d9f-4f56-9976-29bcd34121f4.jpg/v1/crop/w_184,h_184,x_63,y_0,scl_0.17440758293839,q_70,strp/_nf__stalhorse_by_zimthandmade_de00frl-92s-2x.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9MTA1NSIsInBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzZmYzcyMmIzLTEzNzEtNDk3Zi1iMGFmLTYzZDg2NTE5ZjU1MFwvZGUwMGZybC1mMTMzYWU4Zi0yZDlmLTRmNTYtOTk3Ni0yOWJjZDM0MTIxZjQuanBnIiwid2lkdGgiOiI8PTI1MDAifV1dLCJhdWQiOlsidXJuOnNlcnZpY2U6aW1hZ2Uub3BlcmF0aW9ucyJdfQ.GSbtGoDNDjs7ocMO6jiBkIk1veiaELt8W5U6Sk1dTe0)
![[NF] Stalhorse](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/6fc722b3-1371-497f-b0af-63d86519f550/de00frl-f133ae8f-2d9f-4f56-9976-29bcd34121f4.jpg/v1/crop/w_92,h_92,x_32,y_0,scl_0.087203791469194,q_70,strp/_nf__stalhorse_by_zimthandmade_de00frl-92s.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9MTA1NSIsInBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzZmYzcyMmIzLTEzNzEtNDk3Zi1iMGFmLTYzZDg2NTE5ZjU1MFwvZGUwMGZybC1mMTMzYWU4Zi0yZDlmLTRmNTYtOTk3Ni0yOWJjZDM0MTIxZjQuanBnIiwid2lkdGgiOiI8PTI1MDAifV1dLCJhdWQiOlsidXJuOnNlcnZpY2U6aW1hZ2Uub3BlcmF0aW9ucyJdfQ.GSbtGoDNDjs7ocMO6jiBkIk1veiaELt8W5U6Sk1dTe0)
This poem is about myself. It appears my writer's block has cleared. What do you think?
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