Onward, To Glory!

A writer, dreamer, and everything in between. “There is such beauty in everything, even the quiet. Especially the quiet.”- E.W My Insta: We became stardust

[abrokenravenclaw]

A different style of poetry today, but nevertheless one I worked very hard on. . . . . . . . . . . #alzwrites #webecamestardust #poetry #poetsoninstagram #poetsoninsta #stayingafloat #paperboat #text #words #spilledink #spilledinkpoetry https://www.instagram.com/p/CDTuEoHAmyf/?igshid=bjiqu7dczfgl

[webecamestardust]

Show me the world at dawn.

Let me experience silence in its purest form.

Time is meaningless. I want to listen to the quiet, for it is such a better teacher than noise. Feel the air on my skin, how it is heavy with the weight of all that was left unsaid yesterday. Moments pass quickly but this one is set firmly in time, a moment somehow bigger and grander than any other. I will take a snapshot and store the image in my heart to remember that peace can also exist amidst chaos.

Allow me to look into your eyes for an extended period of time so that I may understand the rawest parts of your soul. Allow me to see your eyes before they become clouded with the persona you put forward in the daylight. I want to see the truth before it is replaced with lies. I want to see you before you’re replaced with them.

Take me to the edge of all life and tell me the secrets of humanity. I’ll tell you it’s fears. Our knowledge will rise with the sun.

Take me to a place that has been untouched by humans so that I may give it the respect it deserves. I shall greet the earth kindly for it is my home, it is where I belong.

Show me the world. Show me your world. Show me our world.

Let me feel like we are the only humans in this universe.

[webecamestardust]

The Mountain

Moon dripped mountaintop

Tell the story of the sea

So that I may weep

For all those who have

Walked this cruel earth before me

Dreaming of sleep

For they do not know

The void is dark and onyx

Nightmares pave their path

This is part of a poetry challenge where I had to write a poem consisting of 3 haikus. A haiku is a Japanese style of poetry with 3 lines. It has 5 syllables in the first line, 7 syllables in the second line and 5 syllables in the third line.

[webecamestardust]

Do not underestimate the creations of nature.

They live here. We are but mere travellers trespassing over the ruins of their home. As they were once, so shall they be again, and remember, when there is no more trace of us they will be waiting. They will be here. And once we no longer exist they will still see us, and they will still hear us in the whispers of all that we left behind.

The winds will speak every single name and the mountains will recall our adventures and the ocean, the ocean will remember our joy, how our smiles blazed so bright it almost forgot the sun because it could not compare with our dazzling light.

Almost, but not quite because we left and it wept all while the ever present sun cast its rays to dry the oceans tears. And as the new generations come, their ancestors will tell them stories about us, the great giants who once were, but are no longer.

We who lived to die and loved to lose and saw to forget. They will tell the children about the conquerors, the philosophers, the thinkers and the dreamers and tell them how our might was unparalleled across all lands.

They will remind them that the greater they are, the harder they fall, and darling, we were the greatest. But we forgot. We forgot that in our blaze of glory we too would get burned, and we who loved watching tragic stories became the source of the greatest tragedy imaginable.

The creations of nature will show their children the forgotten time relics we forged and teach them about cruel irony, that those who craved time the most were the ones who let it slip from their fingers.

Yet our own creations outlasted us, each imbued with the magic of a little piece of ourself.

The magic must not be harmed and so it will be kept safe, the creations of nature will keep alive the art without artists. One day it too shall be passed on, on to the children and they will finally understand what beauty we were capable of.

Their children will see them, and their eyes will sparkle with the very same wonder that ours had lost.

- Alz

[webecamestardust]

Something a little different this time (aka prose instead of poetry). Isn’t it incredible, that a small, seemingly insignificant thought can lead to something much deeper? There only three people who know of the original inspiration behind this, and yet the initial thought has evolved so much so that I have shared the finished product with all of you.

[webecamestardust]

Do not underestimate the creations of nature.

They live here. We are but mere travellers trespassing over the ruins of their home. As they were once, so shall they be again, and remember, when there is no more trace of us they will be waiting. They will be here. And once we no longer exist they will still see us, and they will still hear us in the whispers of all that we left behind.

The winds will speak every single name and the mountains will recall our adventures and the ocean, the ocean will remember our joy, how our smiles blazed so bright it almost forgot the sun because it could not compare with our dazzling light.

Almost, but not quite because we left and it wept all while the ever present sun cast its rays to dry the oceans tears. And as the new generations come, their ancestors will tell them stories about us, the great giants who once were, but are no longer.

We who lived to die and loved to lose and saw to forget. They will tell the children about the conquerors, the philosophers, the thinkers and the dreamers and tell them how our might was unparalleled across all lands.

They will remind them that the greater they are, the harder they fall, and darling, we were the greatest. But we forgot. We forgot that in our blaze of glory we too would get burned, and we who loved watching tragic stories became the source of the greatest tragedy imaginable.

The creations of nature will show their children the forgotten time relics we forged and teach them about cruel irony, that those who craved time the most were the ones who let it slip from their fingers.

Yet our own creations outlasted us, each imbued with the magic of a little piece of ourself.

The magic must not be harmed and so it will be kept safe, the creations of nature will keep alive the art without artists. One day it too shall be passed on, on to the children and they will finally understand what beauty we were capable of.

Their children will see them, and their eyes will sparkle with the very same wonder that ours had lost.

- Alz

[webecamestardust]

Why do you dream so much?

In my dreams I run and I run and I run

I forget all that weighs me down

Time ceases to exist

And I am free

But then when I wake up I find myself glued

To the same spot I’ve always been in

Where do you run?

Oh, away.

What do you dream of?

The sunlight, shining through autumn leaves

To see the first snowflake that falls from the skies

Stories. Journeys. New beginnings and old fashioned endings.

Oh love, love, love. And to be loved.

But even my dreams have been tainted

The leaves fall and rot while the snow is muddied with human despair

Journeys are left incomplete while endings are more bitter than sweet.

The worst thing isn’t that no one tells your story.

It’s that you never left a story worth enough to tell.

What’s wrong?

I’m standing right here, why won’t you look at me?

And I’m screaming and I’m screaming and I’m screaming as loud as I know how to

But you can’t see me. Nobody sees me.

I realise screams are useless, all I have left are whispers

It’s the whispers to myself that seem to do the most damage

They worm their way into my heart and my head

And eat away until nothing of me is left

Just an empty shell with empty dreams

And here’s an idea

Here’s a terrifying, crazy, wonderful idea,

That the only one holding me back is myself.

I am only rooted to the spot,

Because I won’t allow myself to chase

After everything I dream of.

Too scared of what will happen

When I finally wake up.

Where do unfinished dreams go

When the dreamer wakes up?

Every fairytale needs a villain

And so I became the the villain in my own story

Because it is easier to be angry

Than acknowledge the pain

Because anger masks the realisation

That I do not know myself at all

I spent so long clipping my wings

I do not even know if I can fly anymore

For the azure skies that once were

Are now nothing more than a predictable grey

And so I rejected them before they could reject me first

And the world did not notice that there was

One fewer swallow, who flew home for the summer.

I am drowning

I can’t come up for air

My thoughts are weighing me down

As they whisper in my ear

I cannot stop questioning myself

And my heart is laced with fear

If I don’t even know who I am

Do I truly belong anywhere?

- Alz

[webecamestardust]

Here’s one of my first poems! I hope you all like it 😊

Chaos

A child of night, a child of mourning

Deep ember sparks lie in your heart

Galaxies split open, constellations are engulfed

And the starlight drips, drips into your veins.

Darkness, darkness, the endless void

The quiet stuffs your ears like cotton

The light flickers, a useless beacon swallowed in a sea of black.

Then hear cracks, and the armour lies in pieces,

A broken figure in the middle of ruin.

The light flickers and goes out.

Leaving only darkness. Darkness and the endless void.

An intake of breath.

The sharp sound reverberates all around

A whisper is echoed, but a scream is silenced

Screams are not meant to be silenced.

Determination simmers under a cold exterior.

It lifts the mist that dulled your senses.

You finally know who you are.

An enigma, wrapped in a ferocious smile

Eyes blaze, the spark that died with your light

Reignites, and it is beautiful.

You were warned of Icarus

His pride his undoing

But the moon welcomes her children

And teaches you not to fear the warmth of the sun

Crystalline shards are knitted together

You were never broken, and so you rise.

You break the world designed to break you,

Then watch with satisfaction as it burns.

The old gods are dead, new blood has been revived.

You were raised in chaos and so now you thrive.

- Alz