Silence speaking..?

It happens that silence speaks as much as words do, and sometimes even more. It also happens that you can receive love letters from silence. I'd speak of this more, but I'd be ruining the silence. Immerse yourself.

Painting with words...

I wanted to paint with words... write random phrases that occur to me while I imagine a metal image, and try to connect all of the mental images together under a greater theme, as to form the painting. This is an attempt at it.

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A thousand shards of broken glass, a thousand broken reflections of the moon...

You are your own broken reflection.

For the sake of the simple idea of confusion, they laid a framework for what it could be but never defined it, as not to limit it.

Your head is a house, your eyes its windows. And nobody ever visits.

It was all wrong, because it was all perfect.

His sense of regret was killing his sense of guilt. Regret became the murderer. He was no more.

A traveler stopping by to look decides to settle there forever.

Up on the green hill they lived alone, in silence, forever.

The grass waltzed with the wind, slowly, elegantly. In its weakness lay its beauty.

Paint an emotion, paint motion. Paint the impossible with all your devotion.

Wasting away at the shores of his own soul, he decided to abandon the seas and deserts within himself, and go find a forest in someone else.

Between the grains of sand lay the infinite wisdom of the Earth.

Of all the people, he was chosen to not be.

A demented existence asking for forgiveness, forever held at bay by all.

At the same exact hour, every night, she would confide herself to the warm darkness of her own soul.

In the stars he saw her eyes, in the ocean her infinite love. And then he understood: he never deserved her. But he decided to try anyway.

A motive, purer than the best of diamonds, is still only a motive. Without the courage to act on it, it will remain a motive. And, if left for a time long enough, it would decay.

The sheet of glass fell, and was shattered into a thousand pieces. A thousand shards...

Poem - The Truth

The truth lies in the grass,
The truth is the green.

The truth lies in the clouds,
The truth is the sky.

The truth lies in the blue,
The truth is the sea.

The truth lies to itself,
About what it could be.

The truth lies in the sand,
The truth is the infinite.

The truth lies in your hand,
The truth is in your palm.

The truth is sunshine,
On a cold winter morning.

The truth is in the silence,
Of the eternal passage of time.

DreamNotionPaintDance

Good day. This will probably change your life. I recommend you take the chance, because it is truly beyond.

Here's to beyond, life-changing things.

(DreamNotionPaintDance)

(:

Poem - Stranger in a Shell

There once was a man
Who lived without a plan;
He went out to the sea,
To see what would be.

Everyday he would sell
A single empty shell
To a passing stranger
For nothing in return.

And so he did for long
Not because it's right, or because it's wrong;
And nobody ever asked
With what the man was tasked.

"Please remember me, remember
By the time when it's December,
For then I die, and will not be
Until next year, here by the sea."

(Summer is a man,
Summer is a shell,
And every year Summer
Goes back to hell.)

Awkward.

Hello. This is awkward. Awkward is good. Awkward is seen as bad because it is different. Awkward seems to be simple but turns out to be deep, and sometimes profound. I like awkward. Awkward is fun. I tried being awkward before, and I never stopped. It's as if being awkward is normal. Normal is boring, awkward is interesting. I met an awkward person yesterday, and I found his awkwardness very different from anything I've ever known. He talked and smiled and did everything a normal person does, but he was awkward. His awkwardness inspired my awkwardness, and in that small space in the vast infinity of time, our awkwardness still lingers. It's like our awkwardness was a part of a bigger wave of cosmic awkwardness. Planned awkwardness is awkward. It was nothing special, but the awkwardness made it interesting. Awkward comes, awkward goes, awkward has its highs and lows. I am awkward. Not everybody is awkward. I dislike it when I am awkward alone. Maybe someday I'll be with someone as awkward as I am. Maybe will grow even more awkward together. Maybe we're already growing awkward together. I like awkward.

(Sleep is awkward. Dream is awkward.)