I feel constantly like I must be on my toes. It is hard for me to conform, as I can not stop and settle. The energy that pours into my feet to keep me running is immense.
My brain and my feet are not far apart from being the same ***** When in doubt or challenge, my feet pivot and establish a base. To stop is to give in to fear.
To stop is to be limited. The electricity in my body yearns to roar and conquer, eager to never again be sediment. I must always climb, claw, crawl, or even fly without wings.
Even when tired, or lost, the only way is forward. Even if forward is only relative to me, and others choose 359 degrees, I must choose to make progress.
If my feet betray me, and I can not progress, I will make progress somehow, someway,
But by no means can I stop.
Dec 17, 2025
Dec 17, 2025 at 6:54 PM UTC
Color is such an intimate feeling. When I feel the thump of music, shaking neon blue and green waves from my outline, it creates a vivid outline of the notes and rhythm.
The yellow of instinct escaping from me when presented with little time to react. Oh, how it lights me and keeps me centered.
Passion is a purple, but not as energetic as the others. It mixes with reds and rouge, and falls like a cloud. The fumes of it engulf everything around it. And whether the origin is from my heart or from my brain is sometimes a toss-up, and sometimes a straight line.
Pride is a leader's orange, roaring and taking off from my chest in a lunge that sets the ground ablaze.
Eventually, it all culminates into one large prism, too powerful for anything to stop it.
Dec 17, 2025
Dec 17, 2025 at 6:47 PM UTC
Spirits are the essence of life. They are what make us who we are. Sometimes, they are more us than we are. When in need, our spirit may reach out and put a hand on our shoulder, reminding us that we are not alone.
Not only is our spirit uniquely ours, but it is also a culmination of who we were before; our ancestors. If you find yourself outside, and drawn in a deep, stable breath, you can feel the footsteps of your ancestors walk right through your heart. Their blood glowing in your veins, they dance in your eyes, and remember their routines through your feet.
We feel the shield of our spirit in moments of flight, and we feel its cold steel in moments of fight.
Spirit we are, and spirit we will be.
Feb 24, 2025
Feb 24, 2025 at 10:11 PM UTC
What is ambition? Is it fire? Is it more akin to electricity? Do we associate it with smoke? Perhaps, then volcanoes are ambition. When a volcano erupts, we feel its violent heart shake the earth. We see the plumes of smoke roll for days, hours, or even weeks at a time. Then, the culmination of pressure and buildup is released into a covering of fire and ash. In the clouds of gray and heat, lightning may choose to revel in the sky with its distant cousin; dancing, teasing, and showing what power ambition might have!
Feb 24, 2025
Feb 24, 2025 at 9:23 PM UTC
Have you ever felt a fire like this? One that is a playful ember. It dances around the tips of your fingers, leaving short, intimate kisses on your hand as it passes. A fire that won't grow wild if you fall asleep with it going, yet its intensity burns brighter and hotter by the second, refusing to be snuffed by what is believed to be common traits. A fire that does not cause pain or discomfort, but one that sparks your veins, and makes it hard to contain yourself to the same spot. If I were able to showcase this flame, it would blind humanity. It would make any extraterrestrial fearful of what they might find. But if they still dared to venture towards our home, they would find the fire that makes the world burn.
Feb 23, 2025
Feb 23, 2025 at 8:09 PM UTC
To My Shadows
My shadows- you follow me everywhere I go. You love to show yourself when you can. Your presence isn’t negative, it is just a part of me that doesn’t have the light that it used to.
Firstly, you were the first. We were too innocent to truly have any idea of what it meant, but you make me laugh.
Then, we were only together for less than time enough to make sense, but we all three agreed.
Then, you and I were truly friends. We had fun, but youth and time both inhibited seriousness.
Then, when you came back, I was concerned. Your demeanor and light had changed. How different colored light changed you! Then I drove you away. And that is one of my biggest regrets. May an apology shine a light on you once more.
Then, you tried to turn me into a shadow, but that’s all you knew. And now, you are a textured lace of skin on my arm.
Then, you split, and I tried to follow. Sometimes your blue light kept me awake, thinking of possibilities, and yearning for our refraction to be closer and more brilliant. Then, your other two contingents showed. I did my best to interpret you, Taurus. Your red light wasn’t the bright red commonly known, but other shades not belonging snuck in. Then, the last shade was left. I had taken note of you before, but now we walked together, but never next to each other. Even when we took the same steps, and the same stops, we did not meet in your dark with golden lace.
My shadows- I thank you. Even if things between us never healed, our rigidness helped shape me into a kaleidoscope which focused on the most brilliant shade of color, and you helped me to see through my flawed glass.
Jan 11, 2025
Jan 11, 2025 at 1:13 PM UTC