Rhythm Of Wings

 
“Lust’s passion will be served; it demands, it militates, it tyrannizes.”Marquis de Sade
“I think my passion is misinterpreted as anger sometimes. And I don’t think people are ready for the message that I’m delivering, and delivering with a sense of violent love.” – Charlie Sheen
Alight with you my love I float among the cloudy waves

On the wind a fevered fear that prolongs my only days

Not to see or to swim amongst the damp and fallen dew

But to glide along your endless shore and stroke the plain of you

Winds they blow and change their course to challenge my fancied flight

Only a protest against strong wings in this long and primal night

Starry witnesses show the way to this floating passionate soul

Earthen desires abandoned forever to wrestle in this stranglehold

It’s Illegal To Fly – A romantic encounter

“Do you love him?”
Deryn swallowed, then pointed at the screen. “He makes me feel like that. Like flying.”
  – Scott Westerfeld,
Goliath
 

The following article was written by Anna Rindfleish, a talented author and blogger, in her blog, annaaa in a fairytaleee. Enjoy.

I can feel the sunshine on my skin,

The way it wraps you up in a cloth so smooth
It feels just as lovely as you once did 
Laying on hot sand next to me
Our shoulders would touch, and there’d be this awkward silence
Then you’d smile abruptly, stand, pick me up and rush
Headfirst like the linebacker you are, towards the crashing waves.
You’d laugh and I’d squeal, draped over your shoulder blades.
My dead weight was nothing to you

You use to kiss me under the water
When the waves came and I feared I’d be washed away
You use to say, “Babe, I’m right here,” 
You’d lean into me and kiss my forehead 
Plant your feet into the sand, your two hands gripping my face.
You’d kiss me and it would be sweeter than honey
Smoother than any diamond green money could buy
Bitter like straight whiskey-
You’d steal my breath from me.

I don’t like that my once cherished memories 
How they have these ways of sneaking up on me
I push them down; ignore the feelings
I avoid the places you might be
Close my eyes and count to three 
When I see someone who happens to look just like you.
I’m standing in the rain, its pelting drops mangles with tears
Molding my hair into knots, burning my skin like acid would.
I’m standing on a pier and I’m not supposed to be here.
A swell makes the waves crash over the wooden planks.
I should leave.
Then I remember the day we jumped.
A rush so rich, my heart thudded against my chest.
You held so tightly onto my hand
Then wrapped me in your arms just before we hit the water.

When we swam to shore we were arrested.
The cop asked us if it was worth it
You grinned at him so brilliantly, dripping salt water in the back seat of his squad car and said 
“Hell yeah.”
When the cop shook his head and asked why 

You said, “My baby wanted to know what it would be like to fly.”

021612

An Essay of Change – Great change comes from within

In the death of a moment, there lies the birth of tomorrow
I give way this time, but in the end, no sorrow.

crestock

    
I have to clear the way for a change to take place. I have to shove off from shore, from the expected, the habitual. Push myself into the storm were I will see what I am, and better yet, become a new thing. How will I know of what I am capable of unless Im pushed to the outermost limits of my understanding and endurance, physically, mentally, and emotionally? I must embrace the cataclysm of my existence. Great man are great by passing through the vice-like press of doubt, fear, loneliness, and tragedy. Through being broken, I can be made whole, maxing out my potential. 
     
I have no way to explain that who I am now, is no where near who I was a year ago. Remnants, yes, perhaps. It is a strange knowing, a responsibility, to be made whole after so long. No more blame for the past, no more excuses. I am tethered up so high on the crux of the rock, that even if I fall from here, I will never be as far down as I was earlier in my life. Now, I set my sights ever higher. To the next summit, the next storm, I will press on.


An Essay of Change – Great change comes from within

In the death of a moment, there lies the birth of tomorrow
I give way this time, but in the end, no sorrow.

crestock

    
I have to clear the way for a change to take place. I have to shove off from shore, from the expected, the habitual. Push myself into the storm were I will see what I am, and better yet, become a new thing. How will I know of what I am capable of unless Im pushed to the outermost limits of my understanding and endurance, physically, mentally, and emotionally? I must embrace the cataclysm of my existence. Great man are great by passing through the vice-like press of doubt, fear, loneliness, and tragedy. Through being broken, I can be made whole, maxing out my potential. 
     
I have no way to explain that who I am now, is no where near who I was a year ago. Remnants, yes, perhaps. It is a strange knowing, a responsibility, to be made whole after so long. No more blame for the past, no more excuses. I am tethered up so high on the crux of the rock, that even if I fall from here, I will never be as far down as I was earlier in my life. Now, I set my sights ever higher. To the next summit, the next storm, I will press on.