The butterfly

I strolled undaunted through my universe where everything was simple, perfect.
A butterfly strayed onto my path. It was beautiful; large, blue and silver .
I stopped to observe. At a closer glance it seemed to be mauled, crumpled at the wings, almost unable to fly.
I picked it up and it did little to protest. I felt obligated to nurture it, to tend it, help it to fly.
I gently smoothed out its wings and at first, I was reluctant to let it go, and even it did not seem to want to leave the tenderness of my grasp.
I wondered if such a simple creature had realized the concept of the care I had given it.
Then it attempted to fly;  and sadly I watched it go, flying off my path.
And I wondered if it would ever cross it again.

The moon

Suddenly my universe seemed alight tonight;
The trees still around me, entwined in a web of memory and fantasy;
The path before me, still obscured by the fog;
The slight clouds, the resilient stars,
But mostly the moon,
Was alive tonight.

Suddenly my universe seemed to crumble;
The trees still around me came alive, grasped me with their webs;
The fog consumed me;
The clouds blocked the stars;
But the moon,
The moon was still alive tonight.

The sun

The fire undying relentless
The sun eclipsed
The sun revealed
The sun bright
The sun warm
The sun concealed
The sun uncertain
The sun inside
The sun sets
The sun rests
The fire undying relentless

Where is my sun now?

Monsieur Marble

Nothing can be more beautiful in my eyes,
nothing so deep in my heart.
A greek statue,
adorned with shadow.
Pondering.

As hard and cold as marble,
as soft as petals.
Silent and still,
Listening.

The path blocked forever,
the path locked away.
What it held,
Wondering.

A mystery his thoughts remain,
Stories and emotions untold
Sitting in the still,
Observing.

If he were to become alive,
Who would be his goddess?
I sit and wait,
Wishing.

Still I sit here, facing his serene beauty
Pondering.

Little Box

A bright, sunny, clear area stretched in front of me. As I walk on I encounter a little glum box, seeming thoroughly out of place in this setting. I halt confused as I stare at it, pondering; for some reason I feel compelled to open it’s door and reveal its insides.

I step in and immediately become engulfed in darkness. I stumble around and find something to sit on. Gloomy as it is, its still a relief to change this bright setting, although through the cracks in the walls the sunlight still blares inside this darkness. Albeit the melancholy surroundings I become inexplicably comfortable inside the little box.

After a while of sitting inside I begin to feel the first pangs of misery, seeping into me like a sudden injection. The darkness around me starts to feel much more real. As I start to deteriorate inside I look at the cracks of sunlight inside the box. It seems to halt the stream of despair trying to course through me. I think about a way out, it’s hard to get up and find my way out of this in the darkness, but I finally stumble out into the sunlight.

At first it’s blinding, a relief, something familiar yet now a bit unfamiliar.  It would be a while before I visited the little box again.

Across the Fog

Across the fog, amidst the trees
A heart, wailing in the silence, heavy in the mist
Lightened by the moon, darkened by fate
Crestfallen with despair, winding down the way

Walking through the chilly mist, blinded by the fog
By the memories settling and unsettling
With no withdrawal, no retreat not escape back
Sightless through the path stretching ahead

Backwards through the fog, a white figure
Beckoning along the plain, an impossible illusion
Reminiscent and longing of the path behind
Sealed forever in the night, among the trees,
Across the fog, lost in the darkness.

Can we help it?

What is; the driving force which blocks out happiness and acceptance from the human mind? As it were, negativity. What makes one oblivious to the ‘good’ things that surround one’s life? What makes one seem to prefer to linger in their own self-pity than try to savour and cultivate the better areas of their lives?

Due to the brain’s “negativity bias”; it is simply built with a greater sensitivity to unpleasant news. The bias is so automatic that it can be detected at the earliest stage of the brain’s information processing.

Why do insults once hurled at us stick inside our skull, sometimes for decades? Why do some people have to work extra hard to ward off depression?

The answer is, for the same reason political smear campaigns outpull positive ones. Nastiness just makes a bigger impact on our brains.

Deceit

Her body lay pale and glistening under the rays of moonlight searing in through the window. The white linen curtains swayed gently with the wind casting a tranquil spell over the otherwise sordid scene. For although the soft porcelain skin appeared to be warm and the shut eyelids of that hauntingly beautiful face appeared to be dozing off into a quiet slumber, a glance downwards saw dark red blood staining the white silk adorning the graceful curves of her slender build.

2.

The rain suddenly came to a halt. Unsure, the girl timidly looked upwards, hardly daring to believe the sudden change of element. What she saw was the sun peering weakly through the cloud-adorned sky.

The revelation

A girl stood placidly in the middle of a plain. The slight breeze played tantalizingly with her swaying hair. The afternoon sky appeared to be indecisive today; the sun blazed through a bleak, moody gray backdrop. The girl shuddered to think what would happen if she was caught in a gale whilst in the midst of this sprawling field. For one moment, she took advantage of the silence around her and let out a piercing scream which nobody would hear except herself. The scream echoed through the plain and through her body, affecting her inside, ripping apart the scars which healed half-heartedly, making them gush out blood. Her body trembled and she crumpled up weak, on the ground. She did not show emotion, as she was now impervious to this destructive feeling. Instead, as she gazed across vacantly, she imagined an alternative. A beautiful alternative. A drop of rain splattered across her cheek. She got up and tried to run for shelter but an invisible force yanked at her ankles, sending her crashing to the ground, laughing cruelly at the struggle taking place before its eyes. After a few relentless tries, she accepted the rain washing over her body, soaking her to the bone, and then, with a sudden crystal clear decision, got up, embracing the inivisble force as an old friend.