OneWithTheStars

Just look at the mess you have made all because of your selfish ways, so clueless to what it conveys or consequences to be paid. Ignorant to the bed you laid, your callousness, it does amaze: Just look at the mess you have made all because of your selfish ways. ‘Round the sun, Earth’s orbit has stayed, for it still dictates nights and days in spite of what your ego says— a truth that must have you dismayed. Just look at the mess you have made.

Time to move on, hold not the past, but future hue; time to move on from the ones who expertly con the herds of sheep to see their view with nothing more than facts askew. Time to move on.

Where does your heart beat when it sleeps? My darling, surely you must know you reap the anguish that they sow, and to your soul, their poison seeps… So plundered by these selfish creeps, such injuries, they do not show… Does your heart beat? I hear your soul, the tears it weeps; your love, it aches to freely flow, so take of mine and come to know, for I declare I play for keeps… Does your heart beat?

And now I sleep amidst the green of grasses billowing from breeze, their gentle blades that touch and tease, compel my eyes to close and rest as I comply without protest to put my troubled mind at ease. And now I sleep… So to the world, I am unseen, concealed beneath the leaves of trees, a living shelter to appease that shields my soul grown far too lean. And now I sleep…

Take me away from this dark blight against the scourge that blinds our sight; infections worsen by the day and cripple bodies to decay, condemn the world in horrid plight. The miasma thickens, steals sunlight, the death of hope in endless night while daemons roam, feast on their prey. Take me away… And in my soul, a spark; ignite, to garner strength, Beacon of Light: Unholy plague, my life I weigh to stand against all in my way, for faith is fire; I will burn bright! Take me away…

Water gathers, soft The gentle spring enraptures Carrying the scent Of lilies drawn and in bloom Forever for you The strength that passes From your heart and into mine Souls can be at peace Entwined amidst the fragrance Deepest love blossoming through

Where time stops, yet keeps to a beat through drumrolls marching, trumpets blaring, calling brass to arms as all raise high and in unison, the music charges forth. A beautiful blend of melody with harmony, the woodwinds filter and flutter high upon the notes that scale the stratosphere, light and airy, butterflies alight above the pounding percussion drums and emboldened brass blaring their call. You cannot help but be moved.

The blond man thanked the barista for his latte, then moved his way through the coffee shop. Of average height, he blended in too easily with the crowd gathered in the small café that chilly winter afternoon. The sun was out and shining upon the blanket of snow covering the city to the point of blinding the passersby on the sidewalks, but the blond had relished in the warmth of the light on his exposed skin under the layers of outerwear that he had bundled himself in. It was another ordinary day for him, however, having it off from his job at the art studio, he was taking in the pleasure of the simple things, more than content to have the day lazily pass him by. “Hey, Lenny, that you?” called a voice suddenly over the din. Lenny looked up from his mission to move for the door and return outside to turn in the direction that the deep voice had unexpectedly called from. His eyes scanning the crowd, his face suddenly lit up when he saw the familiar face of

“Ah-hahaha!” cackled the maniacal voice as the wiry and eccentric man stood upon the wet and dank rooftop that drizzly and dark evening. Superspy Hugh Flop had yet again, due to his own brilliant bungling, ensnared himself in another dastardly, mal-intender’s trap. Presently, he remained bound upon the rooftop getting drenched while Phil O’Nee loomed over him with a wicked grin on his face. Victoriously, he hoisted the object of his desire high into the sky and the lightning struck down to illuminate the sinister figure and his feloniously-acquired object. “At last, I have won!” he declared boisterously to the stormy skies. “The world will be mine!” “Setting your sights a little high, don’t you think?” Hugh Flop observed. “Not with this little gizmo,” Phil O’Nee responded, smiling dubiously down at the superspy. While gesturing to the small technological device he held in his hand, he explained, “This little transmitter will enable me to take over the