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I sit with myself, I look deeper and deeper into the empty space of a blank page and wonder
I run away with the idea of adventure, the wisdom waiting for discovery in these unwritten paper Oceans
I see my reflection in the words that I spill — when I pull on my heartstrings and let it be, the language of a secret poetry tucked under my tongue sets itself free and wraps its evergreen vine roots all around me, painting pictures of moonlit forests or Arabian deserts under a star filled sky
Write it down. Create worlds. Spill a lifetime of stories.
real life heroes and sheroes wearing no capes, struggling to be seen in plain sight, whilst villains with absolute power but no heart to speak of — seem to reside everyday under the spotlight, I see blood, sweat and tears and victory and heavy loads and blows mixed with the audacity of hope
Renaissance.
Water.
Life.
No happily ever after. But, perhaps — just what it was always meant to be, a series of epic twisted fairy-tales mixed with the sweetest fantasies
Storm.
The story goes — once upon a time in life…
I was falling to pieces — yet still breathing
failing beautifully once again
