A Writers Tale

Here I stand,  24, feeling less than alive... Trying to hide behind the light even though the light is exactly what illuminates the lies I tell myself, When I'm awake in a personal nightmare which is both creating a beauty beyond belief and also crushing all the beauty that had previously been, Such backwards logic, unjust thinking, You can't hide behind that which illuminates.  I once saw the world with a glimmer of hope, a belief that everything works out on the whole, I felt wonder in all shapes and forms,  Nobody was truly evil, nobody was truly as bad as the world made them seem, I was just a girl, shrouded in dreams, Of a world that may never be...  Silly of me, really...  For perfection lies between the lines of imperfection.  I see this now... There is no such thing as a more perfect world than that of which we live, I am just a girl,  a tiny insecure blim of nothingness...  And I am wishing and praying...

Blown Away Like the ocean breeze brushes past my face, My inspiration seems to float away. I stand upon this cliff edge, gazing out at the brilliant turquoise ocean before me, And I gasp at the magnitude of it all, I face the wonder of it all, And yet here I stand, in a state of anxiety… A state of overwhelm at the future of the all in my hands, The gift of entirety, is entirely too much, Or yet it seems it at this moment. I’m listening to the oceans heart beat and the sounds of the tides rolling in, Minute by minute, Hour by hour, I stand frozen by the effects of time and the sounds of every consecutive wave echoes on in my mind for what feels like an eternity, I guess an eternity of being one with the sea can only provide me with the soothing, healing purity of the most sterile and the most awe-inspiring oceans cold, Where the sea creatures which dwell at the depths of such, are beyond our understanding of what conditions are required for ...

Day 12 Take the first line of your favorite novel. Remove and replace the nouns and verbs, and write a story that begins with your new line. Delete the first line. "The alchemist picked up a book that someone in the caravan had bought. " The alchemist traced his fingers over a book that someone in the caravan had hidden under the supplies. How foolish of that young traveller, the alchemist thought; to hide such valuable books in obscure places and assume nobody would find them... Or did the alchemist have it wrong? Maybe this is exactly what was meant to happen... The soul of the universe communicates in such ineffable ways, and the alchemist was more than aware of the nature of existence. The leather bound cover was in amazing condition, the gold laced over the cover conveyed an intricate pattern and symbols completely unbeknownst to the alchemist… A feeling of familiarity washed over him as he traced the cover, he recognised these symbols but he couldn't re...