snapped wings cannot fly
your soul has fled from your open black eyes
i say you're gone,
but as i sweep you aside
you sting like you're still in there
(so i leave you alone, 'cause
i don't wanna dirty my hands
diary of a time-travelerFrom my pedestal a thousand years in the future,diary of a time-traveler by KittykatMWuster
I see the sky blurring by.
The present time has no definition. It is now,
where I stand;
and I have a billion feet that stand then and after
all at the same time.
(Time is merely a nursery rhyme -
things the sky says as we go to sleep.
Day after day, our footsteps are the same.)
Here I stand now, on my pedestal, on the silent shore of then and after,
and I discover that time is merely a single footstep
compared to the billion footsteps of us.
CycleThis is a story about how gods come to be. About how every element, every ounce of power or energy, of feeling or thought, of belief or faith becomes the possession of one being of ether. This is how love became the jewel of a maid, life became the toy of a child and truth became the shield of one boy.Cycle by lunarctikle
At first there was nothing, except thoughts, power, energy and beings. First, the beings had to know where they go after they die. And they had to learn who created them. The beings needed something to believe in. They needed a god. And so, from the beliefs of the beings, just as a tulpa is created from intense concentration and endless faith, a god took birth. He became the most powerful god of the ones who would follow. They called their god The God. They built alters, shrines, temples and statues, so they could worship him. Soon, they began sacrificing other inferior creatures, even plants, food or cherished objects. A daily routine took shape, as the beings went to the temples from t
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