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Literature Text
and so, i fell
with reckless abandon to catch me
when i reached the bottom of the cavern
that great adventure
this strange journey which alleges
that love makes fools of men
and blinds the prophets as they sleep.
if this be madness,
consider me a captive to insanity.
i saw the horizon
and wondered if, somewhere along the journey
there could be a you and me
as though my hand was designed
for yours to fit in it
and your fingers were crafted
to interweave with mine, my lover.
as though we were fashioned
from the same block of clay.
logic dictates that if
one broken heart meets a mender
and one lonely creature meets the
key which fits their lock, then this is
destiny
wrapped inside a gilded package
and tied tight with a knot which can't be broken.
can't be severed by the
tools of men and idle hands.
and if in this equation
one and one were meant to equal two,
then there must be a sea which parts
and must be a bridge to cross which leads
me right to your doorstep
where i belong. where i've always belonged.
where i always will belong.
my pulse found its cadence
when it listened to the drumbeat set by you.
some may say that the sands
erode when we least expect it
blown away by callous gods
who never knew what completion felt like
even on the seventh day when they rested
and declared all things good.
they never were the kind
to find perfection in anything other than bloody tears.
and some may say that
one can be subtracted from two
and one can be divided until a
fraction of its former self remains,
but i never was the kind to listen to
the idle logic of jealous lips
and stubborn minds.
open the gates
and let possibility roam free.
i will tell you secrets
and whisper stories in your ear of
two people who grew old
and discovered the secret of life
inside their intertwined fingers
as the ghost of life departed
and they ascended to life everlasting.
their souls immortal
now, the echoes of their existence
form ripples on a pond which seem to
crash
into me and you.
i will hold you in my arms
and remember your name
even when i forget my own
and remember your smile
even when my vision fades.
and i will glory in the fact that i knew
the one perfect person who taught
me how to stand upright.
and i will cradle you like a child
inside the hollow of my heart
until the world forgets
where my soul ends and
where yours begins, my lover.
and i will die a happy woman
because of you.
with reckless abandon to catch me
when i reached the bottom of the cavern
that great adventure
this strange journey which alleges
that love makes fools of men
and blinds the prophets as they sleep.
if this be madness,
consider me a captive to insanity.
i saw the horizon
and wondered if, somewhere along the journey
there could be a you and me
as though my hand was designed
for yours to fit in it
and your fingers were crafted
to interweave with mine, my lover.
as though we were fashioned
from the same block of clay.
logic dictates that if
one broken heart meets a mender
and one lonely creature meets the
key which fits their lock, then this is
destiny
wrapped inside a gilded package
and tied tight with a knot which can't be broken.
can't be severed by the
tools of men and idle hands.
and if in this equation
one and one were meant to equal two,
then there must be a sea which parts
and must be a bridge to cross which leads
me right to your doorstep
where i belong. where i've always belonged.
where i always will belong.
my pulse found its cadence
when it listened to the drumbeat set by you.
some may say that the sands
erode when we least expect it
blown away by callous gods
who never knew what completion felt like
even on the seventh day when they rested
and declared all things good.
they never were the kind
to find perfection in anything other than bloody tears.
and some may say that
one can be subtracted from two
and one can be divided until a
fraction of its former self remains,
but i never was the kind to listen to
the idle logic of jealous lips
and stubborn minds.
open the gates
and let possibility roam free.
i will tell you secrets
and whisper stories in your ear of
two people who grew old
and discovered the secret of life
inside their intertwined fingers
as the ghost of life departed
and they ascended to life everlasting.
their souls immortal
now, the echoes of their existence
form ripples on a pond which seem to
crash
into me and you.
i will hold you in my arms
and remember your name
even when i forget my own
and remember your smile
even when my vision fades.
and i will glory in the fact that i knew
the one perfect person who taught
me how to stand upright.
and i will cradle you like a child
inside the hollow of my heart
until the world forgets
where my soul ends and
where yours begins, my lover.
and i will die a happy woman
because of you.
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“Just why the hell did we get chosen?” Officer Lauren Kezwick of the city guard ignored her peer’s complaints and focused on trying not to get lost in the maze like streets of Willow district, one of the many galleries of haphazard construction. Every building within this sprawl seem to have extensions hurriedly bolted on to them, and anything above the ground floor was ramshackle. Lauren couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic, these houses reminded her of some of the airships that docked in the port district of Ivy, which somehow managed to both look durable, and hurriedly put together. Around them the denizens of the district passed by, the small family of Ashborn, their vivid eyes contrasting with their grey skin and plain clothing, a scarred Gan with a broken right horn, standing head and shoulders above passers-by with her hands resting on a dagger tucked into a material sash around her waist, an engineer sitting on a pipe above the cobbled streets and checking the bolts
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fantasy persona oc
Name: Sky Windsurfer
age: late 20's
gender: male
Occupation: Wanderer///handyman//Mystic scientist
Appearance: 6' 3", 176 lbs, light brown skin, jet black hair , royal purple eyes, wears a classic layered jacket , a travel cloak over that, travel pants and hiking boots
Personality: curious by nature, a lover of science and logic but reacts on emotion mostly , is willing to help those around him as long as he gets paid , but isn't a mercenary in any way he will help if it means that the person he is helping is in dire need and has no way of compensating him for his services
powers: Knows a wide array of spells including time and space ma
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The Reaper // Prologue
18 years after the Event
A scream pierces the night. The girl it belongs to sits bolt upright in bed, sweating and breathing hard. Darkness shivers and swirls around her, almost tangible, but stills when her eyes focus, flicking about nervously. She does not call out as she would have years ago. She is too old for that now. Instead, she reaches out and turns on her bedside lamp.
Yellow light spills onto the bedside table, illuminating a sketchpad and stick of charcoal. The girl's hand, already smudged with black, grasps the charcoal and wearily presses it to the paper. As she moves her hand, it marks out a jagged glyph into the paper, dark an
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Submitting this here because dA is the only place which maintains the integrity of my line spacing.
This was written for ~Jesiryu on our anniversary last month.
This was written for ~Jesiryu on our anniversary last month.
© 2010 - 2024 WriterOfStuff
Comments9
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Wow... I must say that this poem has a lot of satisfying, however sad, imagery. Usually when writers using spacing in their poems it annoys me, but your use of it seemed to serve the piece and its flow rather than hinder it. Wonderful final line as well, it had a wonderful sense of finality that is in a way... perfect.