Only in Stories

Scars, Book One, Entry Two

Imagine a world like the one we know,

Except for all the differences unfolding below.

Imagine a world with no burning sun-star,

A violet nocturne with an atmosphere scarred,

By the light of stars, dim and sharp silver.

The Muse’s tears tear with a sparkling quiver.

These stars steer three moons blazing unique,

An eternal twilight of violet, teal, gold, and pale pink.

It’s a world of dreamers, where some seek arrows and answers,

While the others learn lost in their strange, marvelous meanders.

These others express wisdom through conjuring magick.

While the some crave direction through experimental logic.

Regardless of why, dreamers look towards the skies.

Dreaming deep with their two pupil-less eyes,

Their irises spiral, boundless and blurred,

Reflecting birth moons, loves, and deep hurt.

Or something.

Whatever.

Maybe nothing.

Who cares.

Life flows, then it freezes—only in stories life flares.

 
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Four Dreamers

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Three Small Words