SeaOfWolves

The boy sees a man, Dimeetan, looking at the orange horizon atop his castle so high. The man's cat, Chopsysis, hurries back with the coin bag and sees his fat old man sigh. "I'm tired, good friend.  I need to lie down," the man said as he put his crown down on his desk. On his desk; the boy put the book, and saw in the mirror his tired and wrinkly old face. On the floor near the cracked rotten wood, he finds his toy crown, and sits in his chair so confused. While a cat barely knocks at the window, displaying a bag containing their next dirty meal.

Don’t forget, don’t forget, don’t forget, don’t forget… The ground far below and the endless blue waves added to the sense of safety that holding onto my parents’ hands gave me.  “Max, do you know what your name means?” my father asked as he looked out to sea.  My mother answered for me with pride.  “It means ‘greatest’, and that’s exactly what you are.  You were born to do great things, Max.” The bright sun, warm wind, sparkling waves, and smiles of my parents were all things I’d never forget. The light poured into me the peace of naivety. I’m not sur

The tip of the icicle's just the beginning, it drips on a surface made only of water. Surrounding the grey sphere with misty green flowers, they bend on the edge and spring outward forever. On each little leaf is a storm that can dream, of deep tangled vines where the bottom sits quiet. All hoping to look up and see in the stream, a sky that rains wishes instead of stone tears. Ruins are formed where they used to be sitting, their tears become tombstones that cover the surface. The pressure is building a land that can flourish, in time they will bend and spring outward again. At the top we look down but the visions don't end, so we look up

I may be a little too lost to record it, but colours; I see, through thick plastic walls. They tell me to laugh at the stripes in my mind, each line is a life and a lifeline we each could have been. The people we've seen with pinned smiles may shine, but give them some time and they'll make themselves fall. Then black stars will drag them back while they recall; fake limits are always the cause of their stares. They try to search through their full storage for rights, their wrongs fill our mouths with unwanted attraction. But drinks are just drinks, the paths call again, once more, we walk across ending-filled roads. They tend to distract

If clouds were sharp, the rain would be painful. The pavement would cry and we all would be lost. Change never would come, straight lines would be everywhere. Someday we'd fade out without ever knowing the truth. But clouds are all fluffy, the rain is refreshing. The green grass is glowing and calling us gently to dance. So dance; we will, for clouds disappear. They'll be back with new rain, new songs for everlasting life.

A memory of walking through woods can turn into fate, but take a wrong step and you'll die on the hard wooden path. Be sure to find your own vision before it's too late, for the creatures can see you, and soon will set free their wrath. For now, the hard wooden path turns to snow. Your thoughts become clear and the dark creatures sleep. A small hole, a slight chance, so quickly you go. Too fast for your vision, you fall down and weep. You forget why you're going and what was once fun. It's right there inside you, the pathway to light. All desire is lost so you turn back and run, to the memory-filled forest where everything's right. The cre

The moon, as it dances with long lost colors buried somewhere in the sky. A child, a smile, a yearning for fun, a journey, a life with no need to try. The wind, as it reaches for a sun once thought to be bursting with beautiful light. A silence, a stillness of vision, of all that could be, what is, is belief in what might be right. When time travels to a place far away, and we're left with the magic of a million miles. The dark can be loved, the shadows can win, and we all can become one once again. A new door is opened, the vision is empty, we take a step forward and dream what might be. The first breath is given, we find a new heart, and i

I could see a world beneath the ground. Reflecting, like a puddle, the known land, except containing all things desired. I could feel its magic, its beauty, its tranquil callings, But with one cautious touch, the vision blurred. Callings anxiously led to painful beggings, And the known land sank deep down. Down beneath long forgotten innocence. Innocence that called not for a need to remember. Now every step is a new, yet already known and empty day. I suddenly find myself having stepped to the edge, and I look down. The ants are busying around like traffic in fast-forward. I tried to find the known land one last time. But the bar