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Lifes CanvasBetween the light of the liquid sun and chalky moon,
The land Imprisoned in a fiery cocoon,
Colours bleed from the skies,
stars shine like serpent eyes.
Spellbound by the shadows eerie dance,
Eyes remain focused in a hypnotic trance.
Clouds burst as the heavens cry,
Liquid life falls from ebony skies.
The heavens light tears the land asunder,
Fierce light show with the voice of thunder.
Icicles glisten like diamonds,
Ferocious volcanoes form deadly islands.
The ocean crashes as the land is torn,
From the calm to a raging storm.
The wind whispers through the trees,
Its eerie voice filled with beauty.
In her rage when she best be heard,
The winds anger is always feared.
Mountains reach to heart of the heavens,
Desert lands with winters essence.
The world once a blank canvas,
Lifes creation now all around us.
Where is my faithWhatever happened to my faith? Now shadowed with doubt,
Where are the angels when my heart cries out?
Do you even hear me when I pray out loud?
Or am I only talking to sky filled with storm clouds.
Are my loved ones souls safe and sound?
Or are they lost in nothingness never again to be found.
Where is my faith? Its gone from my heart,
Without it everything seems to be falling apart.
I've watched my mother fight to save her baby,
Pleading with a higher power a prayer of a family not to be torn,
In desperate hope her soul lives in the dawn.
Did you even hear as she begged in tears?
And on valentine's we got what was feared.
Where is my faith? theres something missing in me,
Almost completely numb and empty.
I watched as my Nan took her last breath and slipped away,
I'm still haunted by that memory every day.
Tried so hard to believe that her spirit lived on,
But its so hard when my beliefs are gone,
And without them I don't feel that strong.
Where is my faith? I long to have it back,
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More