Ethereal Tresses

Emerald stars fall lazily
As trees of cosmic yore
In eternal sparkling glory
Gather as orbiting groves

In repose upon soft lips
One silver-white stag
Forms the clay of breath
Caressing Jupiter’s vale.

Wistful liquid-umber eyes
Encircled by Aurora’s train
Mold Stonehenge nebulae
Unto a glassy night sky

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I feel immensely harrowed up, as of late. The need to shed the chains which had bound me is ever-present as I realize the essence of life calls for staving off those selfsame chains every day. Failure to recognize faults results in the dulling and dimming of Gospel truth held within, upon the heart's scrolls. Unlike the plates of Laban, the golden ( Read more... )

To my friends ( Read more... )

Hello all ( Read more... )

Melissa inspired me, lol...

Your Birthdate: February 27
( Read more... )

How to make a silentstarsong
Ingredients:

3 parts mercy

3 parts humour

5 parts faith
Method:
Add to a cocktail shaker and mix vigorously. Add caring to taste! Do not overindulge!

Personality cocktail
From Go-Quiz.com

Sure doesn't sound like me, but hey I'm not made from a cocktail... Wait... bluecohol... hmm....

O, thy love as dew upon scarlet-honey lips
That vermilion hast spoken betwixt dales
Of the weary moon as her silver soft gales
Two drops of the lyre-aloe drench wing-tips.

Ah, facets of her waning fire-nectar firstling
Sweep indolent bliss unto throbbing glade
And naked marvel, her white-sailed rustling
Around raining breaths whir hurrying shade.

He knocked thrice and softly called thy name, lilting, comforting, pure- ever strong. Thou wept with ivory tears as thou wast mindful of the humility permeating the doorway to thy heart. Upon the third rap thou didst hearken, and arose from thy bed of blooming tears. Unto sweet reverie and slow pulsing vigor as gold through thy veins canst thou ( Read more... )

Redeemer ours, through the silken veils of eternity dost thy love permeate, and clothe me. Thy touch as fresh dew upon my cheek, and comfort as a warm autumn breeze; wrap me in the snowflakes misting my hair. The beacon, the heart, 'tis a reflection of our eternal progression. Weep not in despair but in thy grief, dear brethren, find His balm, even ( Read more... )

Meet me, Monsieur Idiot! *backflips, then dances then trips over a bucket of luff* that is all...