In my dreamsYes, I am a very lazy person. I love lying in my bed and not doing anything physical while my mind wanders off. Then I daydream. Or I fall a sleep and dream an ordinary dream. Ordinary, since my writing skills fail me. No dream is ever ordinary.I am not as fond of dreaming as I am of daydreaming, I have to admit. That is because I hardly ever remember my dreams and when I do remember aspects of my dream, they usually only get me confused. And life is confusing enough without the dream confusion, isn't it?Sometimes though, sometimes I dream a story. It has not happened to me much, in fact it is quite rare for me. I love to wake up though a
FreedomOnce upon a time there rose an idea, an interesting goal.The idea that rose was an idea that we should understand better nowadays, an idea we should feel stronger connected with than we do.It was the idea of freedom. But not just freedom. It was the idea of freedom in responsibility.Too often nowadays freedom is used as a shield to hide behind. Not from what it was supposed to protect us from. No, it is used as a shield against the very sword we should use to defend freedom. For the fight for freedom is just.The fight we are fighting now, however, is not. The sword that we should use, but cast away instead (only to have our dear shiel
A historyBloody battles fought in vain.Said for glory, but it's a lie for shame.Men they die, hit the ground.With an awful cry or a muffled sound.Gory grounds drenched with life.Not what those highplaced men contrived.But it is not they who fight the war.It's the working man who settles the score.As the poor man loses life and limbMankinds future was never so dim.For honour, for glory, for freedom they call.In final though, death captures all.How years are wasted in the sand and mudThe flower of life is too soon cut.
ChoicesI tried. Believe me, I tried. I tried so hard that I nearly lost myself. I know it was my fault, I don't deny it. I was the one that let go, it was me who wouldn't hold on any longer. Not because I wasn't able to, but because I thought it was better that way.So I let go. I let go of you. That was fine. Letting go is not wrong. How could it be? If you hold a flame too long, it will die for lack of oxygen. If you hold an icesculpture for too long it will melt. I was right to let go.But I wasn't right to turn away. Letting go doesn't mean leaving. Letting go of the flame doesn't mean you can't watch it. I didn't see that though. So I turned
I won'tI won't. I refuse to. I won't do it.Not because I think it is your fault. I won't accuse you of it, even if I would be right to. But I won't apologize either, for it wasn't my fault either. I won't forgive you, because I do not blame you. If I do not blame you, how can I forgive you?You want me to take the first step. But don't you see it? I already did. It just wasn't good enough for you. I opened up. I removed the stones from the road. That was the first step. Now you want me to take another step. You want me to blame someone. Either me or you, you don't care. As long as I blame someone, because you don't know what to say otherwise.I
Odyssey into 2012 - Chapter 1"Tokyo..." she whispers. "Zephyr." She repeats the words, again and again, desperately hoping that the words will remind her of who she is and what her goal might be. But the words don't ring any bells. Like a mantra she keeps repeating them, echoing herself as she stands up and walks towards the gate.One step. Another step. A third step and she passes the threshold. All turns black, silent. A scary feeling of emptiness surrounds her, even her own body seems gone and she starts to panick. Then slowly, very slowly, her senses pick up signals again. First the feeling of her body, then that of her surroundings. Her feet, dressed in sneakers,
StrangeStrange. Strange and beautiful. No, not beautiful. Stunning. But strange. What else could be expected? He was beautiful, stunning and strange. And expected.Yet unexpected. Strange in his unexpectedness yet expected in his strangeness. No description would do him justice, yes, it would be a sin even to try. But isn't that what people do? Sin? I know I do. Not willingly, of course. It happens before I even notice it. Or perhaps it is willingly. For if it was truly unwillingly, wouldn't I try harder to prevent it?But since I have already sinned (I have described him as strange, stunning, beautiful, expected and unexpected already), I might a
Sta.sh
