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Night rolls in, the grandest stage. The blackest scene from darkest page. All is quiet, all is still. A cloak that blankets all at will. Coolness breathes its tender way. A sightless temporary stay.
How lonely are ye to sit below this simple tree, And ponder of a world where passion has toes curled, And flaming rivers run Under a bright, golden sun, A rock sinks in your gut, Looking out...
I want to be a hermit. I want to be alone. I want to sit so royally on my hermit throne. I want to live each day I've left within our Lord's creation.
I walk the dog late at night, around the streets until we stand on the prom looking out to sea. You can see for miles, the water black and still. Emptiness where the town ends and the sea begins.
Flickering flames, shining bright,. The heat a comfort in the cold air,. A small sanctum in the dark nights,. I hope you'll meet me there. Branches crack, and are changed to ash,.
#lookatmeandwhatdoyousee #youngwritershousehold You look at me And what do you see.
If I could runaway someplace, I'd know exactly where to go. But where my life would take me, I honestly wouldn't know. I wouldn't need a house of brick, My house could be made of sand.
Calming air. Looking through a white laced curtained window. Street lights making my map home. A golden path in the dark I'd love to follow. Maybe this shimmering guide is misleading. Waves crashing.
#augustwriteaday. A wanderer went searching. For a broken heart. Not sure when it would end. Not too sure where to start. He wandered in the traffic. Looking out for clues. He knew he may not win.
My fingers lightly trailing the spines of hundreds of books. Waiting and watching for one to speak to me. The fire spits and lashes in the delicately carved fireplace.
The rain was patting against the car. My leg was resting against the door. The rain was soothing and was whispering hello. The only thing in my head was no. Feeling like an idiot.
"Ngài tự giam mình kỹ hơn, dường như ngài còn cài then lòng mình lại và do đó gia đình nghĩ về ngài như một người đã chết.
#youngwritershousehold The wind blows softly against my face, The shade cast by the tree cools my heart. The ocean waves relax the tension within, That would otherwise tear me apart.
It's 10:22 as I'm sitting here writing, staring out of my bedroom window looking for inspiration.
Tonight I'm looking out of my window and savouring the precious seconds of the beautiful night around me. I'm shivering as the cool breeze touches my face but I don't care a bit.
I tell you this my friend; many pleasures await you in this glorious life, some of them are truly momentous and others seem matter of fact. There is one though I must admit, I simply cannot fathom.
Today I am quiet Today I am calm Today my mind is open To what is missing. Today I am silent, Today i am at peace, my thoughts are softer than a blanket of fleece.
I wanna stare at the sunset. I want to forget everything. I want nothing to regret. I want to stay there and just have those memories of good stuff in mind. I want to shut the world outside.
Looking up so high. The moon a hanging crescent glowing so bright. Stars blanket the dark night and light the sky. Counting stars lost in time. Watching them sparkle & shine.
Sitting in my garden at the closing of the day. A fly nearing the end of its life cycle passes by my way. Alone bar nature's presence, my mind wanders peacefully.
A single red rose Different shades of red Standing there lonely With a sad hanging head.
So I am going to stay up all night. Listen to music in the dark. With no light. The only light coming from my phone. In the dark by myself, all alone.
It's 4am. I'm awake. It feels like I'm alone in the world. Not a sound outside except for the rain. I could be the the only person in the world.
I went for a walk. To get some fresh air. I went through the town. There's nobody there. Where have they gone. Where could they be. I thought to myself. It's just lonely old me.