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Ellentelligence
Ellentelligence
Welcome to my world of poetic intellect ;)
Take the brush from the painter, You destroy her soul. Take the music from the dancer, You destroy her rhythm. Take the spice from the chef, You destroy her palate. But take the dream from the dreamer, You destroy a nation— the essence of her being!
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Nov 15, 2024
Nov 15, 2024 at 1:59 AM UTC
Her essence (a comeback)
Someone asked me what the best definition of time is. Time? Time is... ...a moment to grasp but in vain.
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Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 12:51 PM UTC
Time
Knowing You Is golden.
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Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 7:09 AM UTC
Knowing
*Just like the clouds cover the earth, so is God omnipresent. Just like flowers grow from mud, so did God created us from same. Just like flowers need pruning for growth, so do we from trials & temptations. Just like flowers need rain to bloom, so will man live through conversion and baptism of The Holy Spirit.*
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Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 12:05 AM UTC
Flowerbed
Isn't it odd? In my futile attempts to dogde hugs from playful infatuations, i got kissed by steady, lip-biting love. Odd, isn't it?
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Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 7:21 AM UTC
Odd
*So we often look for a love that will supplement us. Don't! I hope you find a love that complements you. Adores you. Respects you. I hope you grow to realise that only Jesus Christ can supplement us. He will complete us and make us whole. So I hope you find a love that complements you. Complements every bit and part of the imperfect you.*
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Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 12:40 AM UTC
Dear Poowo
I took out a piece of parchment to scribble down the things i wanted to ask you, hoping the angels would bring it to you. I thought perhaps, should i ask why? Why you couldn't hold on to life a little longer because i still can't get over the fact that you are gone. Or maybe to ask if it is really you who appears in my dreams...or am i just overly hallucinating to the point of memory alteration. I should ask what keeps you busy because you mentioned the first time we talked in my dreams that you couldn't visit sooner because you had been busy. I should ask why you can't appear in my dreams everynight. Like the night before my graduation when you came and we took pictures full of glorious technicolour and we were content. I should also ask whether you noticed that i am blue, broken...i lost myself. That I am so afraid of loss that i feel the need to push the ones i love away. To ask whether you noticed that i keep to myself so that i do not burden those around me when i break down with the mere mention of "mum". Or let me just ask for advice. I grew up accepting the concept of broken hearts because somehow humans decided that figuratively the heart is made of glass. But mine isn't. It's made if sand. I lost a grain or two over the years but now...i should ask for advice on how to mend my disseminated heart. For it is scattered into millions of grains. And for some reason time seems to have gone to a stance. The saying that time heals all wounds seems vague to me now. For no matter how much time passes by, this wound isn't healing. Its hard to think about you, but its even harder not to. So after contemplating all these questions, i took out my quil and wrote the one question i was desperate to ask you: mother, are you well?
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Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 2:13 AM UTC
Mother
I took out a piece of parchment to scribble down the things i wanted to ask you, hoping the angels would bring it to you. I thought perhaps, should i ask why? Why you couldn't hold on to life a little longer because i still can't get over the fact that you are gone. Or maybe to ask if it is really you who appears in my dreams...or am i just overly hallucinating to the point of memory alteration. I should ask what keeps you busy because you mentioned the first time we talked in my dreams that you couldn't visit sooner because you had been busy. I should ask why you can't appear in my dreams everynight. Like the night before my graduation when you came and we took pictures full of glorious technicolour and we were content. I should also ask whether you noticed that i am blue, broken...i lost myself. That I am so afraid of loss that i feel the need to push the ones i love away. To ask whether you noticed that i keep to myself so that i do not burden those around me when i break down with the mere mention of "mum". Or let me just ask for advice. I grew up accepting the concept of broken hearts because somehow humans decided that figuratively the heart is made of glass. But mine isn't. It's made if sand. I lost a grain or two over the years but now...i should ask for advice on how to mend my disseminated heart. For it is scattered into millions of grains. And for some reason time seems to have gone to a stance. The saying that time heals all wounds seems vague to me now. For no matter how much time passes by, this wound isn't healing. Its hard to think about you, but its even harder not to. So after contemplating all these questions, i took out my quil and wrote the one question i was desperate to ask you: mother, are you well?
Continue reading...
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*The numerous attempts were futile. The stars warned the moon not to go out during the day. He retaliated... he probably shouldn't have. And then he saw her, the sun. Her beautiful radiance overcame him. So once in a while he snuck off to watch her...from a distance. But when he cooked up enough courage to face her...on that day, that midday, the curse was cast. The world was in darkness.*
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Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 1:01 AM UTC
Forbidden love: part 1 (syzygy_Solar eclipse _)
When i am lost at a crossroads, unsure of the direction to take...i find retracing my steps and starting over to be nifty
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Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 1:34 PM UTC
Steps
*I remember the way he stood behind me with his hands raised in the air. He shouted along with the crowd as the music played out loud. I can't seem to tell whether it was because he was overtaken in the glorious gospel music, Or whether it was because he stole gazes at me while he did it... But all i know is that in that moment when i caught him stealing, my heart froze. I realised late that from me, he had stolen more than just mere gazes.*
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Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 2:21 AM UTC
Him that gazed through the night sky