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  Aug 2020 Shadow
Isabella
Sky
Colors of the ocean marbled with fire
Blending like paint, like waves, like flames
Delicately adorned with glistening dewdrops
Clouds of white and grey crying softly
A dome of peace, life, humanity
A cage shielding us from the world which lies beyond
Undiscovered
Unlikely
Unknown
Shadow Aug 2020
There is a certain freedom
A certain contentment
That comes with letting go

When you realise that
The sun will still shine
The birds will still sing
The flowers will still bloom
The wind will still caress your hair

When the thought of them no longer makes your soul weep
When their name doesn't fill your eyes with endless tears
When seeing them doesn't ravish
your heart any longer

There is a certain feeling to letting go
The feeling that you get when you smell the wet soil mixed with the morning air
The feeling of finally laying in your bed after a long long day

There is a certain freedom
A certain contentment
A certain ataraxy
A certain bliss
In knowing that
life will still go on
If you love something let it go
Let it fly away like the free bird
And its song will wake you in the morning
And it's thoughts will put you to sleep in the night
Like the rain's melody on our windows
Shadow Aug 2020
The darkness closed in
Silently
Without a single hint or warning

As the day shattered and fell
Haphazardly
On the cold forest ground
The daytime sounds
One by one by one
Slowed down
Until all that was left
Was the unspoken chatter
Of shivering leaves

Pulling up my favorite chair
I sat at the table
By the west window
Watching the remaining light
That clung to the horizon
Slowly die away
With each loud tick-tock
Of an old grandfather clock
Which proudly stood in the corner
Waiting to proclaim
The fast approaching hour

I don’t know why
But it always seems to me
That unlike the mornings
Where the sun’s light
Slowly spreads through the forest
Waking the sounds
That had been speechless
Throughout the night

When the darkness comes
It comes quickly
With the sound of a hush
Setting my dreams free
From the prison of my pillow
Faster than the speed of night
Shadow Aug 2020
Life is a game, a grandscale game with never ending experiences, feelings and thoughts to be had. Within this great game we play many other games, a major category of this, being social games.
One, somewhat flawed, rule which we have made up for this social game is that one really doesn't know or doesn't feel something unless they can describe it with words whereas that's not the case!

You can describe something but you cannot tell me it's hows or what it truly is, let me give you an example:
I tell my friends that I am in love with a girl, raptorously, and they ask me to "prove it" or tell them how I'm "in love with her" and, if I'm a good poet, I would say: "I love her as the fish in the pond loves the moon's reflection, I love her as the birds love to sing in the mornings, I love her as the toe loves hitting the side of something at 3 in the morning, I love her rapturously, with all my being and all my heart." and then they would say wow and say that yes I really do love the girl.

However not everyone is a poet and mere words cannot express how and what we feel because as much as I try to express my love to the world through words and utterances it will always fail to send out what I truly feel at heart. You cannot tell me how you beat your heart, how you formulate your thoughts or how you digest your food, you just π‘‘π‘œ it.

To try to explain somethings to some people would be like trying to drink the ocean with a fork: ardous, boring and neverending. You can always try to, but you would get tired in the first 30 seconds and they, too, would leave.
Words are not the only tool which you have in order to express yourself to the world, music and art can both be so much more heartfelt than words can ever express. However not all of us are musicians or artists and so I will present you another, better and more effective, alternative: π‘Žπ‘π‘‘π‘–π‘œπ‘›.
Shadow Aug 2020
I've lived to bury my desires
and see my dreams corrode with rust
now all that's left are fruitless fires
that burn my empty heart to dust.

Struck by the clouds of cruel fate
My crown of Summer bloom is sere
Alone and sad, I watch and wait
And wonder if the end is near.

As conquered by the last cold air
When Winter whistles in the wind
Alone upon a branch that's bare
A trembling leaf is left behind.
I only recently discovered him and his work and I am I awe of it.
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