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12-04-24 09:05 PM
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Xeogaming Forums - Story Realm - My Metaphorical Heart | |
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Cairoi
This isn't about you and your loud mouth,
This is about me and my fucking beard.








Since: 08-29-04
From: PA

Since last post: 4861 days
Last activity: 4485 days
Posted on 12-31-06 03:47 AM Link | Quote
OOC: Forgot to post this up on here. Enjoy!

I visited my metaphorical heart today in a moment of deep contemplation. It is a grand hall, in most of my sight white and pure, alit by the sun, though there are some shadows that occupy the corners. Papers are scattered everywhere, tacked onto wall and pillar, scattered about the ground, floating in the soft breeze circulating about me. On each sheet there is an epiphany or thought I hold true in my essence, scrawled out in my mindless shorthand, unkempt yet holding as much conviction as a parchment of official decree.

In a search for insight, I began to read that which has floated in my mind. With a snatch I grabbed a paper and read the words inscribed. The world can be a dark place at times. I nodded my head in sorrowful agreement, tossing the paper aside. It floated willfully, landing in the shadows of the room.

Hoping to feel renewed, I grabbed a sheet on the ground with writing scrawled all over it. I began reading mid-sentence, as I could not find where the sentence began. …and people’s perceptions of me are bound to be varied of me, as I know I am a multifaceted individual, but there is an essence to me as there is all humans that they should at least subliminally arrive to…I remembered this train of thought and released it from my hand, allowing it to return to the old contemplations of society I have had.

A harsh wind blew and a paper smacked against my face, taking hold. When the wind dies down, I removed the paper from atop me and read the inscription, laughing. I hate it when people deny good food. We have taste buds, and in moderation we should take advantage of them! I must have had an argument with my brother about good food, as this arrived on an ill wind. I flicked the paper over my shoulder, watching it disintegrate in the ray of the warm sun.

I then noticed that the white walls are littered with beautiful paintings. In wonderment I wondered why these colorful memories had not been immediately apparent against the white of the halls and of the parchment. I saw a picture of my father dancing like the jester he is, dabbed in vivid watercolors. Next my eye caught a sketch of my brother, concise and detailed, labeled and a perfect interpretation. I noticed the breathtaking view of the Philly skyline I had witnessed a year ago. The things my eyes have seen reassured me the world is beautiful, and I felt uplifted.

I turned my attention to the throne arc, my eyes coming into contact with hundreds of paintings. I walked to it, my eyes drawn and my mind captivated. Each picture was that of a friend, someone in which I confided my trust and affection and for the most part found it duly returned. I gazed upon scenes where a friend had me captivated, and I rested my hand near a scene of us together and having fun. I felt tears begin to swell in my eyes, a smile growing ever larger on my face.

And then my eyes fell onto a picture of a scene I hold dear to me. It was becoming twilight, the orange light of the sun tinting everything around me. I had in my hands a treasure of inexhaustible value. I touched her painted hand with my own, and I remember the emotional and physical warmth I knew that day. As I backed away slowly, I noticed the air slowly begin to speed up. Papers begin to spin around the middle of a room reminiscent of a weak tornado, yet I notice the paintings and various papers are immobile, oblivious the strong warm wind that circulates their fellow papers.

I step into the center of the paper tempest, tears of happiness still slowly forming on my face. The papers all read the same thing. I love…And when I reached to touch the papers, my hand wass shocked, and a visage of a loved one appeared before me clear as day. I fell to my knees and smiled, feeling the love of those special to me circling around me. I see my family, my good friends, my closest friends, and most often I see her beautiful face, the one I hold dearest. I feel at peace here, in my metaphorical heart, because it has been granted the two things needed to be perfect: Room to breathe, and the ones I love . Together they make the perfect place to be. At least, I think, for me.
Katana

Dark Wizard
\"She said tonight...come on come on collide...see what I fire feels like..I bet its just like heaven.\"








Since: 08-15-04
From: Philadelphia, P.A.

Since last post: 1567 days
Last activity: 1385 days
Posted on 01-04-07 04:42 PM Link | Quote
I could go on about how much I like your work (cuz I really do) but I won't. Though I will say this...you've matured quite a bit. Pretty evident in your writing.

The part about the skyline struck me a bit. I see the skyline from my bedroom window every night. It really is beautiful, and as bad as this city can be sometimes, our skyline does leave a peaceful feeling. 'Specially at night. Therefore...if you will let me, I'd like to take you to a few places downtown and see some of the things we have. We'll make an all day thing of it, so you can see them at night and during the day (both times are VERY pretty).
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