"If you wish to understand which intention therein lies,
Only the result of their actions must you unify."

I come from a place devasted by war.
But not the kind you see in movies,
Or read about in science fiction works.
Ours is a war against the rituals,
Between those will and those who do not,
Guard to the doors to their innermost​ world.

This is a story about a story about a story:
In this story, there are no people, no earth,
No taxes to pay or schoolwork to convey.
In this story, there are no Christians, Muslims or Hindus,
No honors to be made or prices to relay.

This is a story about a story about a story:
In this story, there are no warriors, magicians, lovers nor kings,
No damsels to save or dragons to slay
No fears to-be-shaked-by, no horrors to demystify

This is a story about a story about a story:
In this story, there is no time to waste, no goal to attain,
Nothing to be questioned, no decisions to be made.

In this story, there is only the expectation
And the worrying nature of the stranger,
Who to keep our light pure
Wills to sacrifice and endure.

The Power Games

Unlimited Friendship

Don't ask. I was reading a story while a random soundtrack played on my phone and decided to record it 0.o

"Story" by Animefreak ^^

https://commaful.com/play/animefreak/

PS: Price to whoever guesses the Soundtrack. Which I think its super appropriate considering the movie / book

Anime Freak GFA

In the beginning there was expectation,
And a curious gaze on the unsuspecting pray.
As the mercurial snake dives into a tickle,
All points are plastered on the firmament, with
A promise of redemption on each and every reflection.

The first inbreath catches the Red Thread
Forever binding you to impress.
Now amidst sworn enemies an emerging stage, 
May the meek bow under, be hailed by roses;
Let the nails fly through, build that castle in the sky.

An innocent relief delivers into darkness.
Click, tick, flick of the tongue lights the torch,
And forgotten dreams are fleshed out onto walls. 
A dance of bliss and sorrow leaves a story to tell, 
By the blind with hope, able to give, willing to see.

Eyes battle the blur as lungs are rescued.
Senses venture beyond known territory.
A voice from the past raises the guard.
What was once cramped is now ready to be honored. 
Now in place of threat, nothing but respect.

The primatic eye lies on you as it, 
Splits reality into an altar for two.
A restoring gaze carrying dust remains 
From across the line of recklessness 
Innocence is blazed back on the page.

The unruffled woodland in brimming with life 
and yet, no critter in sight.
As the back and forth teasing
Lulls you back into the nigh,
Your life is not yours to f.uck,
No matter how hard you try.
More often than not you'll give it your best, 
Only to realize you left a bloody mess.
But fear not, for with this word
I dub you thee master of swords

Now raise to the fierceful elegance
Who makes weakness barely consequential,
And your gifts only providential.
Be made into the secret
Of the skilled, the persistent,
Who's uncommon kindness,
Brings euphoria to the heartness.
But don't forget to keep me a gentleman,
I would not want to end up wrecked by the shore.

A Dance Of Bliss & Sorrow

A Dance of Bliss & Sorrow (Faster)

If you can keep your head when all about you   
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;   
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   
    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;   
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   
    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   
    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Ros Arlei