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M 4d
i saw you
and i was sure
the stars reflect in my eyes
the wind splash
smiles and blood rush
i felt them altogether
i heard the leaves,
and my heart
fall at the same time.
i did not know
it was possible
to touch destiny
until you appeared
next to me.

- M
wrote this way back and i was just looking for a place where i can share it, i am so glad i found this site ^^
The king owns nothing—yet all men kneel.
No crown adorns him; all thrones yield.
He walks where death and gods repent,
Each step a quake the Fates ne’er dreamt.

He loosed the nectar stars once brewed,
And forged new laws in iron mood.
Destiny crowned him, marked his soul—
The will that forges his own scroll.
“Maker of Destiny” is a mythic meditation on power beyond crowns or thrones. It imagines a figure who walks past gods and death itself—not to inherit fate, but to forge it. In a world ruled by prophecy and divine law, this being becomes the author of his own scroll.
[Narrator:]
A bird once flew with joy, chasing the horizon.
But the sky grew heavy, and his wings grew tired.
One evening, he fell by the quiet sea.
A young girl found him, her hands full of dreams.

She knelt by his side and asked:

[The Girl:]
I found you trembling near the dreaming tide,
Your feathers torn as though the heavens cried.
Tell me, worn traveler, where have you flown?
What hunger drove you past the worlds you’ve known?

[The Bird:]
I chased the rim where fire and heavens kiss,
A line of gold no hand can ever miss.
I sang to suns, I danced where eagles dared,
I broke my heart on dreams that never cared.

I rose, I fell, I rose again and bled,
Until the winds unwove the life I led.
The sky, sweet child, is vast, but it forgets;
It makes no grave for those it once begets.

The sky is not a temple, but a field of knives.
The stars you seek will teach you how hope dies.
To fly is to wager all you are and own,
And to be forgotten even by the stone.

Freedom is a flame that eats its own,
A summit where the winds strip flesh from bone.
Dreams build their monuments from broken wings;
Songs leave behind the silence that they bring.

[The Girl:]
I hear the hollow echo in your song,
The mourning stitched between the bright and wrong.
Your wings are altars where the old prayers bled;
Your eyes, a ledger of the tears you’ve shed.

Yet if this is the price that freedom claims,
If every flight must carve itself in flames,
Then I will pay with all I have and more.
Better to burn than to be chained ashore.

[The Bird:]
Bold soul, you walk the edge where light falls blind;
You court the storm that cracks the clearest mind.
I too once roared against the tethered clay,
Believing wings could tear the night away.

But listen:
Not every fall redeems the climb.
Not every song survives the mouth of time.
To dream is to accept both birth and grave,
To build, to lose, to give what none can save.

[The Girl:]
Still would I leap, though cliffs erase my name;
Still would I sing, though silence be my claim.
Let it be said: she lived, and she was free
And when the end came, she did not flee.

If dreams devour, let them feast on me whole;
If stars betray, still shall I bless my soul.
Better to vanish in a sky of flame,
Than bear a life untouched by any name.

[The Bird:]
Then fly, fierce child, into the ruthless blue;
Let winds unmake you, they will make you true.
The sky is cruel but it remembers one:
The heart that dares to burn brighter than the sun.
This poem is a metaphorical tale about a young woman challenging the weight of social traditions and limitations, choosing the perilous beauty of freedom over the safety of conformity.
Immortality Apr 25
They still carry love,
from lives once lived,
walking paths with
belief in destiny.

Their love so surreal,
kissed by every wounds.

She cloaked in petals,
with a bleeding heart.

Just as tree waits
for spring to bloom,
he waits for her,
to heal.
'Love is immortal'
An eternal love between her and her past lover, waiting to entwine again.
Jesus' baby Apr 23
Scheduled
I sketched my life
with bold strokes of ambition—
my mind dancing,
my heart skipping like a tambourine.

I saw myself
advocating, defending—
a smile stitched on courtroom wins,
my name echoing through channels,
my praise in every mouth.
I daydreamed,
I built bliss in a vision
I thought was mine.

But my aim was narrow.
He, in wisdom, drew another path—
a path where mud clings,
where stains speak,
where pain walks beside me.

Like a painter
He brushed a new canvas
and smiled,
“Perfect for my daughter.”

Now, in the path He destined,
I care—
holding lives on fragile lines.
I teach,
I advocate for health.
I cry,
offering comfort,
living empathy.

Now, it’s no longer fantasy—
but His will done.
And in this,
I’ve found true bliss—
rising each day
to walk this chosen road.

In Him,
I see the masterpiece.
Perfect.
God's plans are always perfect.
I trust in His plan for my life.
Thomas W Case Apr 21
Destiny is a
smiling *******
riding a motorcycle
through the
neighborhood, laughing
at children playing in
yards, eaten by worms and
time.
Pink
green
white
Keliedescope confusion on all
the cat's faces.
Providence is a stealthy hunter.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEeNcBC_mnM
Here is a link to my you tube channel with a brand new poetry reading from my upcoming books, Sleep Always Calls and Aluminum Cowboys Poems and Short Stories.

www.thomaswcase.com
Lyteweaver Apr 16
I feel a charge in my heart space
like a magnet pulling me towards you.
I hear whispers of past life adventures
when we connect telepathically.
I see visions of our divine energy
curling in synchronicity.
I taste your fantasy on my tongue
with sweet remembrance
of a twin flame finally reunited.
I touch your tender depth
as we expand our connection
through conscious intention.
I know you
before
knowing you.
Welcome back lover and friend.
Let's begin this timeless adventure
again.
In anticipation of the love that's coming
Damocles Apr 14
If these tainted deeds and misgivings are etched in my blood,
Then please, take them to me like a maple tree.
Tap into my veins and drain the ichor.
Let its sticky black residue confine your lungs to heavy, heaving breaths.
Then, you can tell me the weight I carry.

If sickness is pre-determined, and my mind is meant to bend and break,
Then pierce my eye with your pick and hammer.
Chisel ego into id and supersize its purpose.
Until my destiny is marbled like the rarest steak,
Cook me until I am less raw.
Like unforgiving nerves exposed to the cold, slow thaw.

Fate does not choose me. I deny it the grace of a salutation.
I choose my destiny by way of destination. Of my choosing.
See, I like to spin the globe, throw a dart upon a map,
And roam where the tip lands.
To carve an unbeaten path.
I am my own master, beholden to none other.
No god, petty demon, or fallen angel.
Not a pious man, nor a shrewd woman could tame the force within me.
I am the whirlwind.
You are not a burden, you are not weird because you don't fall in line, you are not your family's mistakes or traumas, you are you. You are a force you didn't even know existed. Be the whirlwind, shake up your status quo, be more because you are more.
Gbenga A Apr 13
have you ever drank a river?
stretched your lips over it's banks
and ****** everything —
the fishes,
the canoes,
and the boots
that sunk 5 years ago.

I am so thirsty that if I could stretch my mouth
around this planet
and crunch the glaciers,
swallow the oceans,
and breathe in the clouds —

It would not still be enough.

But see what nature did.
It gave me a small mouth
and a mind that believes
that a cupful
is enough.
irinia Apr 9
who
the mind needs to repeat this journey
into the clarity of fruits/glasses/doors
they used to talk with voices without tears
they used to speak without tongue
we are pedestrians into aerial dreams sometimes
we live in this density of meaning too complex for a circle
an uncoscious trajectory so precise & mysterious
I throw myself into the pool of time,
in its seeds, dangers, spirals,
into the unseen in my eyes
who I am is a destiny
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