The NotePeople have asked me, time and time again, why I did it.The Note by Silverstone-Dancer
As if I needed a motivation. As if it were a rational impulse.
Others have told me, with fond understanding and knowing nods and smiles, that it was the Gift. That when the Outsiders laid their hands upon my temples, something was broken irreparably.
As if they could. As if anyone could.
These same people hold me up as a pariah, as an exemplar of the danger of the Outsiders. They disconsider the man who stopped me, chained my wrists, and bound me in cold damp stone beneath rivers and streets.
They disconsider reality.
The Outsiders are not menaces to society.
I say this not from ill-conceived devotion or debt to the beings who freed me, and not from loyalty to so-called “masters”.
This is my note, I suppose; the final writings that bring to life undiscovered truths.
There are many things said about inherited traits. Powerful things.
“Some have greatness inherent; others learn it; still others be
Sky to the EarthSolid whiteSky to the Earth by Silverstone-Dancer
And silver skin;
Dark as night
And sweet as sin.
Cutting through the twilit hour
Wings of flame, shine true-bright;
Gleaming spine and loving power
Wings and whispers, made of light.
Adoration in its purest form
Embrace the stars in jagged heights
Here now and gone before;
Bitter now to human sight.
CuscoBrokeback stoneCusco by Silverstone-Dancer
Of eighty tons
Of dusty tomes
White hands reaching, and in that;
Black wings creaking, for now;
Whispers the Street.
Stone walls weep.
The Ruin dismays.
The sky scratched by Flagpoles high
In the green-grass Square, the City’s Eye
Three clocks upon the high-stone Churches
None agreeing, and none working.
And in our darling world’s rest,
The Shaman’s whispers portend;
We become the servants of the men of the West,
To become the Kings in the end.
And tho the sun smiles weakly above
The moon weeps at her world undone.
New Years StoryI knew that I was his. I knew it in the way most people know what they ate just moments ago; I knew the general, without the particulars.New Years Story by Silverstone-Dancer
Because who really knows what kind of chemicals and elements go into the food they eat, daily, without a second thought? Or what they do to you?
I could find countless people, intelligent, rational people that I knew well, who could tell you that there was carbon and hydrogen and say, is that oxygen in that apple you just ate. I could speak to them, and they would tell me worriedly that there was arsenic in apple seeds. They won’t touch apple seeds.
Apple seeds taste good. A little like almonds. And the arsenic in them won’t hurt you; the form it’s in, bonded to certain other elements, is harmless. It’s the waxy yellow stone or the gray hard rock that’ll kill you if you swallow it.
Tangents aside, I knew that I was his.
I knew it since I was young- middle school. I was into science, very much so, and enjoyed reading book
Death to the Poet"Death to the Oracles, Gypsies of LightDeath to the Poet by Emerald-Alexandria
Who see through blindness of man and his infinite night
Through the lies of the Fates and their wriggling tales
And hear oncoming days through time's shrieks and wails
Death to the Sorcerers, Gypsies of Force
Who weave fire from breath and sing winds off their course
Who lift Earth from it's patterns and craft boisterous rain
And trap stars in their palms, and suck suns in their veins
Death to the Mothers, the Gypsies of Life
Child's Deus Ex Machina, the hunting man's wife
The bearer of Futures, the giver of Souls
Who find shadows of crisis and swallow them whole
Death to the monsters shrieking in the mind
Of the man with whom tragedy and God are entwined,
Manipulating old words to invigorate youth
Death to the Poet, The Gypsy of Truth"
book of GenesisI don't believe a person has a style. What people have is a way of photographing what is inside them. What is there comes out.book of Genesis by augenweide
Set the Fire by LDRPhotography Ancient beech trees in fall, "Hutewald Halloh by zeitspuren
P or P II by LarsVanDeGoor Save the planet by RobinHalioua Also keen on Tol? by LarsVanDeGoor
My Africa 69 by catman-suha Going on a December walk by jchanders Magic Road by PawelUchorczak
Stragglers by Northstar76 Tangible by dysterwald Colors in the Mist by LarsVanDeGoor
Lasers show by PawelUchorczak Little Oranges by jkrab crazy autumn by kriakao
On the crest by dominique-merot -Autumnal path- by Janek-Sedlar Light is Destiny by Oer-Wout
Norway 130 by lonelywolf2 CQ2A8647 by dfm63 Big Sur, Keyhole Arch by alierturk
That's the way by too-much4you our desert island by arbebuk Fairyland by Michaelthien
Stars Over Paradise by Niv24 Sunrise in Paradise by PeterJCoskun Reflecting Infinity by borda
Reflected by m-eralp ALL is Well by Oer-Wout Blaze by jaelise
Winter Twilight by StefanHefele Engeloya Sunset by Dave-Derbis Reinebringen by TobiasRichter
Chamonix valley by TobiasRichter Storm above the Dead Sea by haimohayon :thumb4
This is for the Average ArtistIt is painful at times,This is for the Average Artist by WordOfChen
Seeing those born with skill and talent.
They paint such beautiful things, using the barest of material.
Entire worlds are spun at their fingertips, all from a dot of paint.
I think sometimes, of how nice it must be,
To be able to capture such beauty, within the borders of a page.
To spin a tale from but the smallest of phrases,
To create a fantastic adventure from a mundane experience.
It is painful indeed at times. When I am seated in this room,
Surrounded by the dull hum of failure and regret,
I ask myself, with eyes burning in the mirror,
Am I finally ready to give it all up?
'No!' I say
I will not let it end this way!
Not without a fight, not until I know that I am utterly broken.
The good lord may have blessed you with talent my friend,
He has given you everything that I could have ever desired...
But there is one thing that I have earned;
One little gift that remains my own.
You would not know of it,
Since you have never felt it,
My sister and I both play Yu-Gi-Oh!! and recently purchased a Wii game for 5Ds. Unimaginative as the game is, it is fun to play and equally amusing to see how desperate they get in manufacturing names; a generic duelist cutout and the names are variations of Gary, Taka, and Danny.
But not today. My sister played against a character named Oscar.
The stock phrases used by the characters include "I'm going to defeat you!" "How weak you look." "How could someone like you ever hope to defeat me?"
Oscar's first line was, "Grrr. Wait, why am I growling?"
"Oh, that's right! My wife told me not to bother coming home if I didn't win this tournament. Oh well. Looks like I'm going to be sleeping under the stars tonight."
He shouted "I'm sorry!" once, while attacking my sister directly.
Oscar was the only cookie-cutter "AI duelist" we've ever felt guilty about defeating. I hope there are more Oscars in the game.