The first time Luna saw a thestral, a sense of familiarity came over her. It was... a bit like looking into a mirror, really. Well, not the kind of mirror you see your body with, but maybe one that could show you your... soul? She wasn't entirely sure on that.
It was a bit funny, she thought, how people didn't seem to like either of them. The type of dislike wasn't overtly the same: the thestrals were "dangerous, scary, creepy"; she was generally considered harmless, but "odd, weird, loony" - but the source, for the most part, was the same, and that was misunderstanding.
Luna thought she understood well enough. She wouldn't presume, but the
The Old Oaken Tree by Malintra-Shadowmoon, literature
Literature
The Old Oaken Tree
I have sat in your shade and have been dreaming.
Often I have forgotten the time.
Into your bark I have sobbed.
Underneath your roof of leaves I have sought shelter.
My grief, my joy I have told you.
A feeling of safety I have found here.
You are still there - changed - like me ...
After so many years.
You have stood your ground.
I have found a home, a place to strike root.
We share our life at the little creek.
Hardly I can grasp it or word my joy.
The power, peace and silence that surround you
I have already loved as a child.
And when I climbed up your branches and hurt you -
Please forgive me, the ignorant child.
That what I loved to ha
I am sitting hidden at the foot of an oak,
Songs strike up longing, flying sadly with the wind.
Swing themselves on a cloud, floating in the wide world,
Looking for a human who is imprisoned by a dream.
Penetrate his soul to allay softly the sorrow,
Want to take all pain with them into eternity.
Rain falls from the dark sky and I am weeping silently,
Because the way to my soul is misplaced for all time.
I open my eyes, extinguished is the starlight,
Quiet my songs die away. Sadness fulfils my existence.
Feeling the wind like a warm breath that embraces me,
Hoping that one day it will bring back all the stars.
Comforted by the moon
My Own Worst Enemy...Is ME..... by topazcat511, literature
Literature
My Own Worst Enemy...Is ME.....
Sometimes I fill in the spaces for what people are thinking,
I don’t read their minds,
Or even their facial expressions,
I just fill in what my self-criticizing mind deems appropriate.
“Look at her,” like a phantom whisper,
“Look at how she holds herself…”
“There’s something wrong with her…”
“She’s crazy…”
“What is with her anyway…?”
“Didn’t she used to wear a tail?”
“I’ve seen her bite her friends for fun, and they LET her…&rd
The crackling dawn shone down upon her face,
Striping her skin and gleaming her frustrated tears,
The rope bit down into her wrists, the wiry twine rubbed raw,
Her mouth dry, and starved, she snapped her sharpened teeth.
“Let me go,” she snarled, “Let me GO!”
The dark haired man across the room sighed,
“I cannot, you are too hungry Aura.”
She spat at his feet and glared at his dark eyes.
“You are no angel of my kind,
“ You leave me to starve as you go and fill yourself on the skin of my brethren!
“ You expect me to not be hungry,
“ You expect me to be tamed and be satisfied with
Slowly slipping ivory fingers around the glass,
A peeking eye above the sliver,
A quick prick of a frost-bitten shiver,
The tears of such a beastly heart are flames licking my skin.
Too timid to admit the pain,
I fall to my knees in the obvious shadow,
Letting these tears of gasoline ignite upon the painted scene,
And excuse my blood’s habit of finding our perfect poison.
I am the Victorian-doll who hollows her chest for her prince-charmings,
I give my all, I tear my clothes, I do all but open my eyes to the price of strange love,
I excuse behavior for the sake of pride, for the sake of being alone otherwise…
I am hopeless, and
Am I The Only One? Can You....? by topazcat511, literature
Literature
Am I The Only One? Can You....?
Stepping onto the graveled path,
I wonder,
Can you taste it?
That smokey wondrous taste of life,
Of sunshine on a warm day,
Of the steam of a cup of mint tea,
Of the laughter of your love,
And the grit of sand on your skin on an orange beach.
Resting on a shifting shoreline,
Under the sun’s lazy gaze,
I wonder,
Can you hear it?
That beautiful rhythm of life,
Of your heartbeat connecting you to the water’s thrum,
Of the bells of a church off in the distance, thick resonating tones that are deep and red like pomegranate seeds,
Of the sighs of newborn children in their cribs,
And excited shrieks of young ones prancing through woode
Eternal wood with thousands of tree-tops,
In your halls dwells peace.
With your incessant rustle
You still the longing of my heart.
In silent devotion, the mouth must
Fail there miserably.
Only bird-singing has here the right
To beat the time.
Each tree loves its neighbour,
Together they carry the weight.
Caress each other tenderly with the branches,
Hugs themselves when they like.
For how many animals do you offer
A safe habitat?
For how many flowers do you care
Which trust blindly your protection?
Eternal wood with thousands of tree-tops,
Mother Earth may preserve you.
At all times and forever
You should develop yourself
They live among us all
But you do not notice
Your memories fade
But they are still there.
A better time.
It dates further back –
There, both peoples found
Their happiness in peace.
They lived in harmony
With themselves and with nature.
But soon the tranquillity was gone –
There was a great uproar!
A war should come,
Power was at stake.
Blood should flow –
A crushing battle.
In this beautiful life mourn was rising.
A shadow was cast over both folks.
The elves had to flee, fighting desperate and hard.
All died in the battle, no-one could help them.
One of them could escape
But when she saw the dying elves
She started to si