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The PhilosopherThere once was a sage who, in his old age,
questioned what Fate holds in store.
So he stopped and he wondered, he yearned and he hungered
and pondered "What is this life for?"
"Is life for the living? For thanking and giving?
Or winning for the strong and the best?
But what of the losers? The weak and the choosers
who en-sure the rise of the rest?
And what about those who think and suppose
who play not for joy nor for pain?
Those sentient beings whose gift is perceiving
that life is not just a mere game?"
"I think by design our goal is to die
unfazed by these thoughts of our world.
For that we must live, to thank and to give,
to win and to lose, to ask and to choose,
to think and suppose, to question our woes,
and that is what this life is for."
Smiling alone in the depths of his home,
the sage rose and turned out the light.
He laid down to rest, mumbled under his breath,
"That's enough thought for tonight."
Infinite plains of white.
He walks slowly into this white sea,
Each step silent,
The only noise coming from the telltale beating
Of an innocent heart.
His sight turns crimson.
Brick and mortar block his path.
Infinitely tall, infinitely wide,
He peers left and he peers right.
He glances down and stares up.
Irritated, he begins walking a parallel path.
Surely there must be an end.
Time passes uninterrupted,
Yet never does he find an exit.
A door. A gap.
Frustrated, he collapses,
Back against the wall.
Angry tears yield to fitful sleep.
Resting but not restful.
Suddenly, eyelids flutter.
Someone in the distance?
He stands, waving towards the dark figure.
Elation. Hope. Ecstasy.
The figure draws nearer,
Shrouded in a white cloak.
Eyes of a piercing gaze look curiously,
A hand beckons to the wall.
Together they feel for any cracks,
Weak spots between the mortar.
No way through.
The eyes glint mischievously.
Suddenly, two pickaxes appear.
Averagesometimes I wonder what the world holds in store
for a person like me, plain and boring,
average even, jack of all trades, master of none,
whose dreams lack any form or shape -
a cloud of a slight silver line
what to do? where to go? who to see?
questions upon questions' questions,
littering the mind with missed paper wads
bouncing off the rim of life.
the world makes me believe i have to succeed,
to bank a shot in with a second to spare;
once one domino tips, the rest fall in place,
stagnant, stale, motionless
but you have to know failure to know success,
and i've never cared to follow the world.
The ConversationDiscarded napkins, dirty dishes,
Melted ice cubes and smeared grease.
Three lonely souls fill the table.
Traded stories fill the air.
One of abuse, fear, and nightmares;
One of lost loves and lost chances;
One of old times, of family and friends;
Each distinct, yet melting together,
A harmony of was and could've beens.
The three rise, leaving only crumbs behind,
Each path going separately.
Yet, they are all connected,
Drawn together by the sweat
and tears shed between friends.
We all need a heart-to-heart.
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More