There is art behind the eyes of every child.
Behind the eyes of every grown person, there is a novel.
In the heart of every elderly person there is music.
A gaze will carry the art from one child to anyone who catches it.
A powerful thought will reveal the novel to anyone perceptive.
Anyone listening will hear the music simply when the elder smiles.
By me
A leaf is a soul, thousand of souls hang high in the trees they move only slightly when the wind blows.
Those souls on the trees have made peace with the earth.
They have learned to respect it's power and become one with it.
They hang high, perched on their branches watching with sorrow, the stupidity they see below.
They see the skin covered souls who do not respect the earth that they themselves rely on, for food, for shelter, for life.
These ignorant souls create waste and more wast, until the wast covers more land then even the trees do.
All the while these souls that hang on the trees, work so hard to create the air that they selfish souls breath, the selfish souls see it fit to create metal boxes with wheels that contaminate their air.
They are safe in the arms of their universe, but they are infecting her with a malignant disease.
When she dies, so will they, when she dies, all the beautiful trees will lose their leaves.
By me
Under a twin-sized canopy lay a very little girl, auburn-colored ringlets cover her pillow.
She sleeps soundly, dreaming of a bright red bike with a bell.
Her dreams are disturbed by a touch that awakens her, but she dare not open her eyes, then another touch, and another.
She feels a heavy weight upon her, then..... pain
She feels her breathing change and its hard to draw in breathes, but she dare not change the tempo of her fake snore.
She wishes she could be back in time, five minutes ago when she had a bright red bike with a bell.
She'd ride the bike as fast and far as it would take her, she'd bring her dog and her favorite blanket.... But, if she rode too far, she'd be alone, she'd be scared and miss her mom.
And if she stayed away too long, what if her mom grew old waiting for her to return and died?
Who would protect the little girl?
The girl begins to ache inside, and while fighting back the tears, she finds hersewlf back in her twin-sized bed with the canopy, her eyes sealed tight and struggling to breathe again.
She feels pain and fear, and she wonders where her mother is.
She hopes this will end soon.
By: me
Immature to mature-ish progression is how I should present these, but instead I'm going for what is more meaningful to me, in my life at this moment.
Here we go...
In a black and white garden stands a very colorful girl with strings attached to her limbs and her lips, a blindfold shields her vision of the world.
She hears only the whispers of those who are tormented before and after her.
Her enemies are those she had been vulnerable to, this cycle began the first time she was touched.
Her stained glass heart shattered to the floor.
The clouds that kept hope afloat in her head turned to stones.
The brand new day she saw ahead turned to repeated days of tourment.
All of the colors of the world turned grey.
Her innocence had been taken away.
She is now trapped, deep inside herself.
