Lacexleaves - New Beginnings

In the incomprehensible maze of personhood, somewhere in me there is a tangle whose causal knot is you.

if you're feeling bored, do this little experiment and tag with your score! you link 10 words together that are as different as possible

The invisible ropes of twilight cling gently to the new dawn, the gates of heaven are barred. “Exile is sweet”, uttered the wind. “For whom?” “Everybody”, she answers with a smile. “Liberty”, she mused, “what is it…?”Hesitation. Tentative reply. “Freedom to call your spirit your own.” “And how is it to be obtained?” Silence. “ Answer me young woman, how is one to go about purchasing liberty?” Murmurs. “I do not think you can.”Wonder. “Nature”, she suddenly said, “The answer to be found in nature, is it not?” Uncertainty. “Perhaps” “Are fetters to be hailed?”, she presses. Quick answer. “No” Laughter. “Break them then” Perplexed. “You despise your chains, yet revere them. What is it that you want child?”, She teasingly asks, wounding her slender fingers around a flyaway rose. Exclaims in despair, “I don’t know.” Laughter again. “Nobody really does I suppose”, she said, more to herself than to anybody else. “Why do you seek freedom?” “Liberation of the mind and soul is the object of life.” “Very well,” she said, “Liberty you seek and Liberty you shall have”. And thus cast the ascending sun it’s first rays on the mischievous interrogator and the exiled one.

Nothing much, I know, just an old sunset.

I met an old centipede on the terrace today, slowly she crawled up to me. “Isn’t the sky beautiful today?” She remarks. I tilted my head forward and mumbled, “My aunt says she has seen finer ones, over Misty hilltops and pale dawns.”. She smiled, (I thought centipedes couldn’t smile?) “You’ll never find beauty or happiness in anything if you keep thinking there is something better.” Did she sound wistful? I don’t know. We sat there for a while, she crept near me and asked in a whisper, “Will you play something on that old guitar?” “Uh, sure.” I say and pick up my guitar and start strumming an old tune. I kept muting strings and tripping over notes. But as she showed no signs of noticing anything, I continued playing, until twilight gave way to the night sky and the music faded away in discord. “It was lovely”, she said. I raised an eyebrow. “It was lovely.” She repeated, as mosquitoes swarmed over my phone that had lit up at a notification from my math teacher.

She tightened her hold of the hand dearest to her and uttered in a tone of quiet contempt, ”No rose shall e’er bloom over my grave, god forbid!”

“And you wonder why the eternally vague intentions of mortals morph into creatures as alluring. Will thou not cast away thy pretence lady?” Enquired back the night. The song of the Cicadas rung as soft as church bells through the veil of silence that clung to the earth, among which lay the echoes of unheard laughter and the tears of unseen eyes. Thought held in open hands slipped away, away into the river of time, into the sweetness of lost memory. Wherein is the difference? Futile words and futile life clasp hands/together to form sculptures of forsaken gods on earth and heaven, they can but stretch their hands out and sob at the foot of the aspen poplar and look in terror at its shuddering leaves as it pierces their hearts with the arrow of ichor, the mortal blood was said to be poisoned from that day on, for the indifference of the deity was a luxury ill afforded by the child lying under the sparkling night sky beset with a gentle gray drift, behind which lays life, held off, locked up. Always with the promise of far away, the far away that is permanently entrenched in the distance/the fragrance of neverland.

good afternoon to the chill people with adhd, the people wearing hoodies, the girls who are eating their feelings, infj’s, enfp’s, and intp’s, to the people who eat dessert before dinner, marvel fans, dark academics, poets, writers, artists, enneagrams 3, 4, 5 and 2′s, the gentle boys, the jocks, nerds, princesses, weirdos, and outcasts, people who sleep with socks on, the people who can eat a whole bag of chips in one sitting, the people currently cold, chewing gum, or sad, to the people who like cheerios, oreos, or eggs, those who are battling anxiety, depression, if you’re supposed to be doing homework, if you are taking a bath, or eating cheese, i hope you all have a wonderful day

oh and please reblog to add more

Frosted glass between rain and life

I run my hand through the same old withered branches,

Drenched in the same old tired rain,

Far away the sunset harbours the lost gold of

Odysseys gone by, and if the wind were to hide

Within it some unremembered glow from the land

Of unknown secrets, the evening will gently

Whisk away the covers of the coquette,

And reveal to us a maiden under the bent willow,

Sweet as the apples from the orchards where our dreams

Were buried. She will beckon for the children

To gather around the fire and tell them the story

Of Zerah and Zulamith, whilst we twist the

Slender branches of the cherry tree into a throne

Fit for the brides of heaven to recline on,

Place at the altar a wreath of dead roses,

And hope that the silent fragrance borne to the shore

Is enough for the sea to give up the child

She drew to her heart in death’s storm.

…

And dare I tag anyone? @pollosky-in-blue perhaps you’ll like the story?

Queen of hearts, bows to the fools parade, insanity is a strange thing to take comfort in. ‘Mere blood and bone’ will lure you to depths of life/hell which human hand (only) must (only) touch. Vega of the lyre and bellatrix of the Orion in a dance of lights and life, bitterness sings a frayed melody to the hearthstone, listen to her woebegone voice in the soft refrain, fold away your letters and give away your life, for its not sadness but despair that requests it. Believe in phantoms, and one as old as yourself wants to touch your windows and watch its fragile hands pass through the glass.