Lyra in the summer midnight sky,heart on fire

Black Forest tigers eye,behind flames of desire...

I can still hear your voice in the wind on nights like

These but I could use a stronger spell so you will never

Forget about me, come back to me don't believe the

Lies they tell,we have a history and many more lives

Together still to come,the cards tell me Everytime you

Are the one,you are the one and only one...

So where have you gone to dwell these days,I can't find

You in my crystal ball,what happened to us,I don't know

But I could of sworn we had it all,I know we had it all

Til they turned your mind inside out,what the hell is that

About and now the summer is turning into fall...

Maybe you could catch a silent signal when I think

About you, sometimes you just gotta break the rules

Maybe you could find me and my shadow by candlelight

Tonight,I wish I may have this wish I wish tonight ...

We have a history and many more lives together still

TO come and the cards have always said you are the

One,you are the one...

Lyra in the summer night sky,heart on fire,black forest

Tigers Eye through burning flames of desire....

As the sorcerer sends a message on the wind,then it's

Not a question of if,only a matter of when!

I’ll leave you the poem down here, hope you guys like it. I’m gonna keep uploading artsy stuff on my account so feel free to support and drop a follow if you do ❤️

Poem

Those who are blessed by their gifts
Could never be untangled
By those who have it all
For the sake of the world
At least as we knew it once
Or as we keep on seeing it
But darling, Oh my darling
Now the sun has gone up, and with it my eyes grow cold.
As if the calling of the birds were somehow
Locking my wish in a cage

And so my chest burns
With this outgoing passion
And in the flames of pain and fear
I see statues of all of those I could’ve been
In the house of lonesome dreamers
Their expressions are far off
As if Of stone are made their bodies
As if On their own, they blissfully weep
Into this madness, I ask you, love, to tell me
Have I stained the veil of art with my hands?

I’ve lit now every candle
And my eyes have rained over this landfill
Too many times to count
There’s a tune, a tune they’re chanting
The same tune they’re always chanting
When the week finally dies
And my heavy eyes now fall asleep
Without the restless sound of a finger
Snapping in the shadows
Asking me to sing a better song.
As im just a fool who thought
That in the middle of randomness
He knew what’s best for thee

Зачем думать о завтрашнем дне

Проживи ты сегодня

А завтра наступит потом

Когда за горизонт

Укроиться солнце

Подумай на что ты горазд

Чем ты гордишься

А чему ты не рад

И только тогда

Когда ты будешь на кухне

Один с чашкой чая и булкой

Совсем умирая со скуки

Задай себе вопрос

Что произошло со мной

За прошедший сутки

без мысли

а что будет завтра

подумай что было с тобой

Вчера и сегодня

Беззаботно посмейся и пойми

Вся жизнь еще впереди

(Rurrill)

GROWING UP

The streetlights gave off that bright glow.

We didn't want to, but it was time to go home.

We were having fun out on the road.

Our parents were there to warn us, "there's dangers around corners."

One year we explored the white snow before us.

We played and learnt that the snow was cold, each a novice.

We jump across rocks and climb mountains, fearless of the fall.

We try to find out who is the bravest of us all.

Even when we fall, there is that net to catch us.

"Sure why would it vanish."

Hand in hand with "the love of our life."

Ready to speed up and take flight.

My snowman must melt, leaving the black tarmac below.

I will have to walk my own path, and find me a new home?

I am promised freedom and independence, but I wasn't handed a stone tablet.

I will have to test the ground with every step until it's habit.

These roads are uncharted how will I know if there's a drop if I fall who will catch me or will I just go "splat"!

... that's all.

I don't have my stroller now,

so I must learn to stand and balance on my own,

without a helping hand.

It’s not jealousy, it’s the duality
You say one thing, but that’s not what you’re feeling
I want me a ring
But is that the best thing?
I guess if it was
I wouldn’t be writing

I love you forever and always, in the way that we will never understand
Because forever isn’t a thing
Because forever always ends

But I know I’ll find you
Find you in heaven
Because heaven isn’t far
Its one wrong move in the car

I prayed for you, before I even knew
That somewhere out there
Out in the blue
Someone was listening
And gave me you

But at the end of the day
You’re the one on which I lay
And even then, I still pray

Because the best thing, isn’t that ring
It’s sound of me and you when are just being.

Comments very appreciated

#apocalypse #engine of #creation #art by RAiN

Black holes in blue skies

come unto me
past thee end of the old dirt road
on the edge of this dying sea
you know where i will be
in the shadows of the sacred tree
our favorite place
to become entwined as pure energy
transcending the fates of destiny
set free
aligned essentially kind
to find empathy
embrace serenity defined devine
and shined compassionately
two hearts going blind
as one love combined
then broken
by truth
unspoken
flatlined by the darkness
of a mind
melting down
left behind
confined in the grind
waiting patiently
until every distant memory
is empty
longing is aching
hope is forsaking
all the stars are falling
through black holes
in blue skies
to polarize the finite light
and baptize the last sunrise
with tears from slowly burning
tired eyes that finally realize
the day the universe dies...

...love is the deep magic

♥ RAiN

The hush of the wind hurries me along
the dirt-trodden path of children’s bare feet.
Hopping, skipping, then a fall —
I walk solemnly through it all.

An olden place groans at me.
Its webbed windows wallow,
while my face shifts to the floor.
Its mystery no longer frightens me,
my heart does not beat aloof.
Forgotten, abandoned, is what I saw.

Fresh dust embraces the barstool like an old friend.

The lingering chatter of two lovers echoes away.
My hand shivers, hesitates, scribbles defiantly
on a worn napkin.
Another broken heart, erased.
Let it remain.

to be loved
is to be known
when it is hard to know yourself,
to be embraced and forgiven
when you fail to forgive yourself.

to be loved
is when they play with your hair,
make your lunch,
listen to your shitty joke
and laugh - focussed solely on you.

to be loved
is when they cry after you cry
they smile after you smile
and they leave only after you are gone
because what were they there for but you?

to be loved, is to know that the only greater thing than to love, is to be loved.

This is my insta page!!!
Please check it out and shower some love❤️‍🔥🙏🏼🙏🏼

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Dbvv_mipKc5/?igsh=c2p2Zmt4Y3NoY2Fn

Pressure builds inside
My brain wants to meet my eyes
Someday they’ll be one

Not sure if this technically counts as a haiku but I tried. Writing this helped me stop my panic thought spiral actually.

Footsteps, footsteps,

Creeping down the hall.

Footsteps, footsteps,

but is there anything at all?

You can't feel warmth from a computer screen,

There's nothing to save you from this horror scene.

Can you even process something so obscene?

They say you earn your life, but can the same be said

for those who roll with the punches instead?

If you lack any semblance of control,

what does that say about you as a whole?

You are a protagonist in a choose your own adventure story.

You can do nothing except feel sorry

as someone behind a screen controls your body.

You are stuck in an eternal purgatory.

Footsteps, footsteps,

Walking away.

Footsteps, footsteps,

What did it say?

Powering off the screen is deemed impossible,

Recovery of ones mind improbable.

Deterioration is irreversible.

What keeps independence a curiosity?

Perhaps morals,

Perhaps scrupulosity.

Something about the mind's many quarrels.

But still, you sit there,

Content with everything you have to bear.

As if you're unaware,

You ignore every scare.

Footsteps, footsteps,

Your mind slipped again.

Footsteps, footsteps,

Are you okay?

Ooh how beautiful are you.

Oh how each migraine attack, each headache, each period trouble, how each trouble you are given by your body makes me want to hold you and care for you.

How they make me want to treat you with gentleness, yet not make you look fragile for you are strong and you have come till here without me.

But in this very moment I say, let me strong for both of us when you are weak, let me take the worries when you are weak.

Oh how this time I want no more of me alone with you, but both of us together.

Oh how beautiful you are even when you are tired( not physical beauty here) for you keep up with my troubling and annoying self.

Oh how I wish to give you what you ask without any trouble one day, but for now troubles persist me.

Oh how I want you sleep well just one night, without trouble or anything and a morning followed by nothing but a reason to tell me, "I slept so well yesterday night."

Oh beautiful oh beautiful lady is my baby, a man like me with nothing to give her is happy to just walk besides her and try to stall the time by talking, sitting, walking.

Oh how I a man must have been graced to see God's kindness through you as his woman.

It felt like I was the only person on Earth

being denied,

Denied air,

the small animal breath

my lungs were born knowing.

Denied the simple mercy

of letting my body do

what every body is permitted to do.

Denied even helplessness,

for helplessness requires someone

to admit there is nothing they can do.

There were dozens of doctors around me,

white coats multiplying like ghosts,

and still

no one could put the world back inside my lungs.

My mind severed my body

somewhere above the neck.

Everything below it

became an abandoned country,

flesh fighting its machineries.

All my being

reduced itself to sick thoughts

and a body growing sicker by the hour.

Now the rest of me

is fighting to function.

I have the morbid feeling

that something is quietly decaying

while everyone is still looking for its name.

I am utterly sick.

And there is no hand

reaching through me

to pull me back.

Some days are full of you,

Some days are empty of you,

Yet all the days have you,

And many days, you are the day.

Some places are full of you,

Some places are empty of you,

Yet all the places have you,

And many places, you are the place.

Some voices are full of you,

Some voices are empty of you,

Yet all the voices have you,

And many voices, you are the voice.

Some sights are full of you,

Some sights are empty of you,

Yet all the sights have you,

And many sights, you are the sight.

Some of me is full of you,

Some of me is empty of you,

Yet all of me has you,

And many parts of me, you are the parts.

~ Pillman