one, two, three feathers fell from the nest
liquid gold dropped in an inky indigo sky
rising a bluebird or was it a phoenix took form
where are you going the trees and stars whispered
her flight
her song

34 49

where are you going they said?
where fireflies sweep like stardust among emerald branches
bewitched by the song of the bluebird

13 25

collecting seashell like leaves
weaving their broken copper threads
across indigo skies

22 33

searching for crayola pens like treasures amongst ice cream boxes of broken pencils
rain tapping on tired window panes louder than the school clock
drawing, colouring in ships, flowers, mountains, birds...
freedom.

19 27

born between summer and autumn
at dusk, when the sunflowers had stopped winding their way to the sun
haunted by the dragonflies
compelled to run
past the wheat fields
past the roses
somewhere in a clearing
he whispered to the snowdrops their life just begun

57 82

she said quiet
is not the absence of noise
but the refuge of dreams
and the presence of stars

22 26

What happens to the fallen stars?
the moon asked the ocean...

they float downstream
and play amongst the rushes
like fireflies at dusk

19 26

I commissioned the very talented alekksandar to depicts my Charr renegade... she's a bit of the fiery type but perhaps you care to join her?

Thought it might be worth showing here.

Varok Faithbreaker © Me
Artwork © alekksandar
Charr © ArenaNet

0 7

hush, said the dancing rushes in the dawn, hush, said the weary sun on this silent morn, hush, said the birds to the whispering trees, hush, said the grass to the falling leaves

18 19

The hope of the Gospel is so pure, so intense that it does indeed make the real world seem hollow. Have we been taken in by a dream to cling to this hope? https://t.co/AOtLCZNCIa

14 19

Little boat... FaithB

21 28

when all she can hear is the sound of the rushes

8 11