Her life began to rhyme

Now she finds she had been wrong
To look that way and sing her song
For once she turned the other way
There emerged a new, better day
And then her life began to rhyme
As her joy grew over time
And though she knows not how long it will last
She can only hope that it won't end so fast
It all began all at once
And has only been about a month
But the time has felt like forever
And each memory remains her treasure.

~love stwyth

Look at this old sad blog.
Sitting in the corner of the internet
Like the poor dust sits when
The vacuum forgets about it.

~stwyth

Just Imagine For A Moment..

What if you got stuck in a never-ending tunnel, the harsh wind ushering you forward at alarming speeds, never willing you to slow nor stop. Maybe there could be others in this tunnel. Take a moment to imagine all this. The horror you must feel, so out of control, unable to keep hold or keep track. The outcries of anyone who first enters, which fade over time as one becomes more accustomed to the idea, though the confusion continues to wreak chaos in the mind; there is nothing you can possibly do to help yourself, no way of escaping. But, it is much too difficult to accept such a thought. No, anyone who enters this tunnel forever racks the brain for a way to end it.

Now, picture this: people begin to disappear around you in this dimly-lit, murky tunnel. They vanish into dust, leaving no trace of their ever being there. Where could they have gone? Were they able to escape? Perhaps you could, you would, disappear as well. Perhaps this was your way out. But how to disappear? One could not just simply will themselves to *poof* into thin air. Oh, but you wish you could, and the knowledge that you are completely unable to, and the idea that you may just be here forever while others may be escaping, nearly drives you to tears. But the enormous speed at which you are traveling immediately dries all waters that may flow from your eyes.

You still don't know how they disappeared, at this point, and you become increasingly frustrated as you attempt to fathom what mysterious force could possibly have caused this phenomenon. And why it hadn't taken you yet. By now most of the people in the tunnel are gone.

Finally you begin to slow down, just a little. Just enough to see what lies plastered against the walls of the tunnel. Faces. The faces of the others from you journey staring down at you, lifeless. The crimson drops from the dangling bodies echo through the cavern, and your eyes widen in shock and terror. Perhaps now you are glad you hadn't disappeared with the rest of them? Perhaps you are just a bit more gracious of your current state, of your place in the tunnel?

Still, you don't know how this happened. How could they- Who would think to- Why aren't I- Is probably what runs through your head right now. You don't have a particular emotion right now, it's more like all feelings, mixed into a bitter juice and shoved down your throat.

Now the wind speeds you up again, and you try not to turn back as you move away from the others. There, in the distance, now lies what looks like the end of the tunnel: a beam of light that throws rainbows onto the walls and hope into your heart. Your mouth opens in surprise (and a bit of excitement), as the ray of light grows bigger and bigger. Finally, you reach the end, and your little smile drops, but the mouth remains agape.

The largest and most grotesque creature you could possibly imagine gives off a sort of repulsing glow. Its face is full of hairy lumps, puss gushing, and a mouth the likes of which could make you faint just by the smell. Its teeth are a color which teeth should not be, and a chunky swamp-colored liquid oozes through the parting of its lips. There are many more features that are sickening to the eye, but are better left to your own imagination.

As you approach, its disgusting mouth widens into a nasty grin. Its laugh sprays the chunky drool over you, causing you to shiver in both contempt and fear. It brings its face closer to yours, and stares into your wide, frightened eyes with his evil orbs of an indescribable color. You try to step back from it but the wind keeps you where you are. The creature opens its mouth again, this time to speak.

"Hello, my precious darling," it utters, stroking your chin with its huge, slimy finger.

You scream as its mouth widens to welcome you inside, and your cries continue as you land between its teeth, for the scene stops abruptly, becoming a pure darkness, and you swing yourself up into a sitting position. Your blankets are rumpled, scattered all over the bed, and a bit of sweat and drool dots your pillow. You lay back down and bury your face in the soft, yet damp, cushion, grateful just to be alive.

The Elephant Stone

Following the path outlined by thousands of small white daisy petals, Lilia increased her pace with every eager step she took. Closer and closer drew the light at the end of the tunnel of trees. No time to stop and admire the beauty of it all, no time to take in the succulent scents of the things she never knew.

There is was: the elephant stone. It was said that if you stood at just the right angle, and listened with all the drums you could possibly listen with, you could just make out the sound of a newborn elephant playing his first trumpet, brass as the light that filtered through the trees. That was why she was here. Legend said that once you heard this elephant stone play, you would feel no bitterness, no animosity. All would become clear, and you would no longer feel hate.

Lilia circled the stone, meticulously searching for the place on which she needed to stand. A faint sound. Anything. 

A light breeze entered the clearing. Minuscule hills formed on her arms, and a chill ran through her body. The wind grew stronger, nudging her. She surrendered to this force, moving in the direction of the wind. She reached the edge of the clearing, and suddenly, she was pushed again, only in the other direction. It arrived at her front, her back, left, right, until finally it had positioned her in such a way that satisfied this wind. It stopped. The clearing was still.

There was the hum. Lilia turned her head slowly, both ways, and as she gazed to her right, at the sun, the hum was a bit louder. She continued in this direction, bubbling with excitement. Louder and louder the hum grew, until it gave off a more vibrant aura. It pounded against her eardrums, the powerful blast of an elephant's trumpet. She had found it, and with it, she had not a care in the world.

As she walked away, however, Lilia did not feel any different from before. She did not feel enlightened, or empowered in any way. In fact, she merely longed to hear the elephant again, if only once more. After a moment of internal negotiation, she turned and rushed back to the clearing in which it lay. She recognized the spot, and remembered clearly how her head was turned. And yet, no elephant trumpeted for her this time. Not even a hum. Lilia frantically whipped her head in all directions, walking swiftly around the place she had stood before. Nothing. Only silence.

Horrified, Lilia turned and ran, ran as quickly as she could away from the stone. Confusion turned to frustration, which quickly became anger, and finally, she couldn't handle it. No, she began to hate the stone, the legend, the forest, and herself. Why couldn't she make it work again? Life was not nearly complete without this wonderful symphony the stone had produced. She could almost, barely, remember how it felt. Wonderful. But she would not, could not, feel it again. 

After a long while of running, the clearing and the elephant stone behind her, her legs collapsed and Lilia sank down to the damp soil, leaves crunching beneath her knees. She broke down in tears, not knowing how to justify such intense emotion, and yet it all made perfect sense. At this point, she couldn't even remember how she was before she encountered the stone. She couldn't remember her positive attitude, her thirst for adventure, her love for the people in her life... All that mattered now was the nagging feeling of emptiness tugging at her heart, which she could not possibly shake off nor embrace, and it pained her both to think of it and to attempt to ignore it. She could not decide which pained her more. In fact, each put her in more pain than the thought of death. She couldn't possibly live like this anymore.

You probably know what happened next: Lilia rose slowly to her feet, and turned to face the edge of the trees, the edge of the cliff. She broke into a strong, determined run, more and less sure of it than anything in her entire life. Lilia threw herself from the cliff, taking what felt like an enormous leap toward the other side, when it was merely a jump into what life lay ahead.

Perhaps you feel her act was irrational, silly, pitiful, or perhaps it made sense to you. Unfortunately, dear reader, I cannot tell you which it was, nor can I even try to define it. All I can think to say is, if you wish to know how she felt, and why Lilia could have even thought to react this way, ask her yourself. Or, if you dare to venture there, visit the elephant stone, and listen to the sweet brass of the fresh elephant.

flowers and showers

follow the flowers
for hours and hours,
and never look back
on the things you may lack.
watching and waiting,
your thoughts are debating
whether you continue,
or if you will stop.

never worry,
never hurry,
just find your rhyme.
always going,
always flowing,
works every time.

smile at the glade,
before you must bade
adieu to flowers,
and flee the sky showers.
but never forget,
for it has been set:
this time with the trees,
in your mind it buzzes like swarms of bees.

how are you feeling?

how were you feeling yesterday?
I didn't have the chance to ask before.
I hope you were well and bright as May,
and that your day was not a bore.

so, how are you feeling today?
I'm glad I get to talk to you now.
hope you feel even better than yesterday,
and that your sky has no clouds.

but how will you feel when it is tomorrow?
will I be able to ask you then?
hopefully you will feel no sorrow,
and that I will see you soon again.

kokoro kara

oh my kokoro

full of such sorrow

how will I know when

it shall be tomorrow?

can I still love you

when you don't love me, too?

with all my kokoro,

yes I still do.

your smile, it blossoms like a hana

every time I see it I wanna

smile with you,

as flora and fauna.

but can I still love you

when you don't love me, too?

like butterflies to hana, 

yes I still do.

when I'm with you I'm full of hikari,

but if I'm embarrassing then I'm sorry.

I just want you 

to hear my story.

but can I still love you

when you don't love me, too?

like the sun's hikari,

yes I still do.

why would you be surprised

that I love you?

you can see in my eyes

that I still do.

I wrote this on Figment before, but I really enjoyed it, so I am putting it here as well. Hope you enjoyed it, too. :)