I am a unicorn. My hair slides along my graceful neck in pearlescent waves like frothy, ocean tides – brushing and crashing and whispering and falling back and never only in one place but never imperfect. Slender legs delicately press my hooves into the earth, and the ground feels honored at my presence. The Wind smells sweeter as it passes through my mane, though I do not smell sweetly myself. Unicorns do not smell like anything; but if they did smell like something, it would be the scents of Wisdom and Time that mingle in the airs around me- a swirling aura that I cannot escape from- that I was created with. I watch the world come and go and never forget, but I never stop to wonder where everything that used to be went. Am I a creature like the birds that wander in search of love and freedom? No. I do not search for anything. Am I presence like the Ocean that will only just forever exist without knowing her own purpose but filling it each day? No. I do not think I am void of feelings entirely or something made to serve and benefit. The Ocean has no desires that I know. Then again, just because I do not understand my own feelings does not mean that other things do not have any. Continue reading
Posted in Musings, Thoughts, Writer, Writing
Tagged Dragons, fairy, Fiction, Mermaids, Mythological Creatures, story, Unicorns, Write, Writer, writing
Armed with a noble shield,
Brandishing a sword,
Only complied to yield
If given a reward.
A soldier goes a lone
To risk his life for many,
Thinking that he might be known,
Even though he wasn`t by any.
Although the greatest feat
Is done by a man of war,
How much greater are the ones you meet
Who wanted to stay poor.
<<Poetry by ZeldaTetraSheik>>
We apparently like to celebrate holidays
wherein we don’t even remember the true meaning at all.
On a second note, here is an absolutely adorable bunny.
One time, a person stated to me that they could not figure out why it was a custom for people to give “dying flowers” to people they like.
“The life of a rose is very beautiful. It blooms and dies for the sole purpose of providing happiness to another. I find it to be honorable.”
A flower is not ugly, though it knows it will die shortly after you pluck it from its source. The life of a flower is very short, but that does not stop it or hinder it from expressing its true beauty. It shines as powerfully as it possibly can for those whom it was meant to shine for, before slowly letting Death overtake it, accepting its destiny and doing its best to fulfill it before it fades. The flower does not shine any less though it fully knows that it will not live long. It lives solely for the main purpose of bringing a smile to those in need, a more noble pursuit than any other.
If a knight needs a smile, give him a maiden in a tower. If a maiden needs a smile, give her a single, solitary flower.
I think that she is beautiful. Not in the colors or the way she leaps and crackles like lightening whips against a lion’s sneer. Not how she warms the body and creates light for those in need. Not the thought of her, but what she “is” makes Fire very beautiful.
Fire is powerful. Flaps her seething wings and rampages. She is free. Freedom is beautiful, but it is also sad. With the knowledge of freedom comes the knowledge of the lack of it from having known what a lack of freedom entails. Does the Fire know a lack of freedom? She does. Fire is tragic and lonely like the Ocean, only more desperate and persevering. Like the Ocean, Fire hurts those unintentionally, but she also hurts everything she touches. Ocean waters tremble and fall through the cracks of a cupped palm, but to hold Fire means pain. Continue reading
The lonely Ocean is filled with many things both known and unknown, but being filled with beautiful things does not make her any less lonely. She is mysterious. She is wondered and awed. She is beautiful, but that does not make her any less lonely. She hides many wondrous things inside of her that no one ever seas unless they specifically look for them. Stray dolphins porpoise to the surface, spraying tendrils of thought into the open to be viewed by those who never knew of the beautiful things inside of the Ocean, like a sudden spark of genius that randomly sprouted against a shy prodigy’s will, and everyone will look at it.
The Ocean is still lonely. She rages in loneliness, being driven by the slaver-driver Moon to be crashed and beaten against a bed of spoky rocks when all that she ever meant to do was be who she truly was. Hauntingly, she ripples against the sunset blushes. Tattered waves shiver and diminish into calm.
She is still lonely. Though she is filled with marvelous things, she wanders from sunset to sunset in search of something she doesn’t understand in waves and courses of Time. Death and Life flow through her as the Ages pass, but the Ocean never gets any wiser. She never grows. She never pauses. She hurts others unintentionally but never learns. People look at her for many hours to be enthralled by tragic beauty and silence, never knowing why they think she is beautiful but only understanding that she is. Maybe the Ocean isn’t beautiful at all; it is just the reflection of the full Moon from her obedient, exterior surface undulations.
“Quiet. You will be more beautiful this way, Ocean.
People will never know the beauty inside of you, so let us paint
the silent, silvery face on your outsides so that,
despite your loneliness,
you may still be admired.”
That is what the Moon said.
Are you like the Ocean?