A Clear Pool

My prince, in his misery, looks down on the people, but continues to lead them into a new day. He realizes that the people can not see as far a scope as he, and so allows them to despise him. He tells them of his regrets as if they are his triumphs and pretends that every choice was made with swift and infallible decisiveness. He unites the people against him and traps them into a rapid, unstoppable change. He uses himself as the ultimate bait and scapegoat... I do not know whether to admire him, or to feel sympathy for him. Your loyal knight, traveling on some wind of destiny, will come to your side... will fight for your causes, even if they are not fully understood... will die in the name of my prince... in the name of chivalry. Because what is chivalry, but some form of sweet platonic love?

Can you smile for me? I am not by your side... so looking in a mirror, or at a camera lens, thinking "this will be for her" can you do it? I don't think you can. You can try, but a genuine smile, that smile I love that warms my heart... you can do it flawlessly under different circumstances. I know it. You just have to be happy, but... It's not my place to tell you to be happy. Before, I thought I knew. Before, I led my most cherished into an unknown that I thought had the potential to make them all "happy". Our beings, stricken with a certain degree of numbness to our own emotions, could learn so much if they were made to feel a higher degree of emotion. They could feel such intense joy... but I forgot... or rather in my naivety I neglected to consider... that very intense pain, suffering, and sadness that the universe would implement to balance polar opposites... ...but if it is balanced, then why does it feel that the most intense of my sufferin...

What if in your dreams, you thought you would be something much better in the waking world.  In your dream, you anticipated how amazing you would be when you woke up. Thinking your dream form to be lesser than that of the sleeping you in some other bigger reality, you fantasized about how it would be to wake to your full potential. You imagined a slightly altered, slightly better appearance, and that you could speak clearly and precisely the words you needed to convey to the world. You thought, "When I wake up, I will have so much more to work with and I will be able to do so many wonderful things!" In the random passing of dreams, like passing through train-stations on the railway, you fought imaginary enemies who wanted to keep you from waking up. They were trying to keep you from realizing your true potential and utilizing the natural powers you held in your existence. Often these enemies would hold up distorted mirrors to you, showing you blown up flaws and horr...

A dissertation of the workings of reality... work in progress: In the beginning there was just you. Slowly evolving from a zygote, multiplying and dividing cells upon cells and forming what you are today, did you sit to think it through? A sentient being suspended in thought and creation, or were you a mass of flesh suspended in another being’s amniotic fluids and born through automation? As it is with most of the beautiful things in this world, both could be true simultaneously. If you do not think that you thought as your figure was wrought, at least note that your eyes could open and close and your monitored heart produced a note. When you emerged from solitude into the blinding harshness of this new world you were greeted by others like yourself, who were eager to enter your world and immediately welcomed you into theirs. Then, you probably grew up in a very unique way, perhaps even subtly so. You witness the world from your perspective only, so the very degree of uniqueness may b...

I keep having these similar dreams... in them, I think I am a mother. The situations I am in aren't always clear. What is going on and the surroundings are always vague and confusing, a true landscape of a dream. But in all the uncertainty and misty shroud of subconscious one thing is clear... the faces of children. Sometimes these images haunt me. At times when I am unhappy with my own choices, and perhaps too scared to admit to myself that the path I've chosen isn't the best, someone will admonish me. A daughter like Winter. Her dark features and smooth demeanor often remain wordless...but her eyes glisten and brow furrows as if hurt by the pain I am forcing myself to endure. Her lucid, perceptive eyes need not speak to convey concern...and my heart wrenches in anxiety that her features may reflect a more daunting emotion... disappointment. I want more than anything to make her smile, to embrace the child and prove that I will change myself, to take hold of all ...