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Mark Wanless Nov 2022
you are creator
   of all
you are creator
   of consciousness
you are creator
Mark Wanless Oct 2022
i opened my mind to the cosmos
    humanity flooded in

the world revolved once more
    here we are again

what time is it the present
    as has ever been

do not believe these words
    you are creator
Coleen Mzarriz Sep 2022
Have you ever considered that if someone is lost, they were once good?
Have you ever wondered if clouds were mists and what raindrops are if rain exists?
It was these nonsensical questions you always find common to believe in,
like when you talk about metaphors, you always think of "rain."

But the moon figured out it was to give comfort to people who truly needed it at this time.
It was unbearable for some, but for you, dear?
For once, it was almost as if you were being embraced by the platonic moon, who once favored the good, and for once, it never happened again.

The wind is metaphorically a duvet, comforting, warm, and private, innocent and cold.
When the wind whistles and calls for the sky, the sky turns akin to one’s warmth of soft lilted voice and embraces the skin of once lost, a phrase everyone uses in things they find wondrous.

But have you ever wondered if the moon has figured out if he is also one of the good?
If he did, then why did he brush off the earth?
He went far away, visible to the naked eye—and never to be reached.

He left the Creator's dearest one, and everyone gets lonely at night, trying to understand why they grew fond of him—but he never once went down to embrace his own kin, yet he left a half of his own, so he could die when the sun arose from his seat, and he could rest until it was his turn to look over for people who needed his company, even if it was only for a few hours.

He knew it got sad at night, and by this time he, for once, favored the good and never to be seen again but felt.
I always love writing about the moon.
Mark Wanless Mar 2022
and the mind is true
miracle creator you
we product of time
Void Feb 2022
If only they could see the dreams that I see
Maybe they'd support me
I'm writing a book
A concept from 2016
Its a beautiful story
Yet my family and friends are not there for me
Its disheartening to be so passionate about something and feel like it is all for not
That is the curse of a dreamer
That is the curse of a leader
As my dream begins to fade, I won't give in under the pressure this time
This book, I've invested too much time into
This book to me is perfect
I just have to help them see that it's worth it
Àŧùl Dec 2021
Just like myself,
My love lasts forever,
But not for just one entity,
I love everyone equally.
I should love my creation,
Should I not?
My HP Poem #1949
©Atul Kaushal
Tony Tweedy Sep 2021
A God all alone in empty total dark,
had thought to start up creations spark.
To build upon that black empty view,
all those things his thoughts made anew.

Where and with what should he begin,
with only darkness there to keep it in?
Mechanics drawn from rigid Physics laws,
so time would carry out evolutions chores.

Only God alone right there at the start,
hydrogen made as if from some godly ****.
Clouds that swirled and time then congealed,
until mass and gravity his plan then revealed.

Ignition of that first ball of gaseous light,
that brought an ending to the longest night.
Deep in that furnace new things were made,
a realm where matter and time both played.

Changing substance and the shape and form,
by the passing of time and by cosmic storm.
All elements to make every building block,
of galaxies, liquids, gases and every kind of rock.

So the plan moves on at his chosen godly pace,
filling all of time and all corners of outer-space.
Ever changing all things into something more,
God all alone knowing what its all been for.
Accident or creation?.... or both?
Liz Carlson Feb 2021
Help me believe You're using this brokenness in me for a reason.
Help me see Your good ways and plans for my life.
You see my pain, it feels too much to bear many days.
It feels like an endless cycle, fighting it feels so hard.
Help me have hope in You.
Help me see myself more the way You see me, Lord.
I know You created me with amazing creativity and with good gifts.
Help me to honor that and see that more than the way I currently am seeing myself.
Coleen Mzarriz Feb 2021
If I tell you, my muse,
how I long for your presence
amid the desert in the crack of dawn —
would you saunter by and stay
until these wounds be in silence
and covered by your unpredictable peace,
will you stay?

My muse, when I write you, no name
no shade, no face — a beauty with only
a mere part of your body in a physical dimension
of my story, with you here, I feel
the sense of belonging
the unknown familiarity,
take a plunge, face the mirror —
I am there, I am there.

You were born in May,
in full moon by the seaside.
You were crying melodies
and the current flow of the waves,
carried you to me, in reality, in dream,
in song, while your face
soft and maiden for what I saw in your eyes.

The past, the future,
how you brought comfort —
while my book stays there, in draft,
in awe of you, my muse.

This is how I celebrate the month of May,
where are you muse?
come and take a look in your creator —
I am here, I am here.
Wrote this for my muse! Hope you'd give this love since it's hearts' day! Bless your pen now and keep writing, writers!
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