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Showing stories tagged with #metaphysical-journey Clear filter
The proof...the roof highest apocalypse. the truth...uncouth the silence's lowly pace , shimmering...what needs to be unsaid, undone ..
#nightdwellers I walk and make my way with brittle steps. Conscious cascade Streams of thought, whispering breeze Shutter this window Caw of crow over roiling sea.
A fragment of autumn, a terrible sadness. Spiralling reality crackling, Recognition, so sweetly embedded & illuminated in crystal notes of reflection. Precise. And detailed. Exact. Sparkling.
Day -1 So here I am, lost in a maze of harsh fantasy. Everything here seems so... Vibrant. The colours reflected off the iridescent leaves seems to glitter with a hue all of its own.
The night is bleak and lonely, And the stars aren't out to play, Some dark creature has been called upon, To tuck the moon away.
Just beyond the sunset. Someone waits for me. Just beyond the sunset. Lies my destiny. Where the purple mountains. Lie in deep tranquillity. There I’ll find the treasure. Of love eternally.
The numbness... The banging... The painful dying, the trips on a river of souls to meet old friends and death's warm glow...
Through shuffled queue, and muffled mourn, friends straddle path in rhyme'd forlorn.
Lights blinding my eyes. Fading into time, watching myself die. Screaming in my ears. Nightmares holding my hand, Dancing along all my fears.
Another New Venture awaiting the thumbs up :) I hate hospitals. They're full of the sick and dying.
Morning comes and brought with it a feeling of new discovery. He stood in the glory of its light and allowed the energy to feed his being. He shook out his locks and began his morning routine.
The hole fell far beneath them as they stood staring down it. Straggly roots sprouted from its sides. Thorns in the way but they could see the prise a faint light dim glow at it's end.
A single-spoked wheel turns slowly in circles, Whilst the snake of our conscience weaves slowly within.
All the thoughts you've never seen, Are ones you're always thinking. The water's wide, the water's deep, O' why aren't you sinking. Feel the path of opportune, O' which road are you giving.
She straightened up, pushing away from him and putting a hand to her head. Glass crunched under her shoe, and she wobbled as reclaimed her footing.
The train was at a station and new passengers were shuffling down the isle.