My writing. Don't steal it. Thanks

Now

I ran across this online and loved it and wanted to share:)

Now
by Greg Watson

I told you once when we were young that
we would someday meet again.
Now, the years flown past, the letters
unwritten, I am not so certain.

It is autumn. There are toothaches hidden
in this wind, there are those determined
to bring forth winter at any cost.
I am resigned to dark blonde shadows

at stoplights, lost in the roadmaps of leaves
which point in every direction at once.
But I am wearing the shirt you stitched
two separate lifetimes ago. It is old

and falling to ash, yet every button blooms
the flowers of your design. I think of this
and I am happy, to have kissed
your mouth with the force of language,

to have spoken your name at all.

.

Can you hear me?
Would you want to, if you could?
I’m not even sure.
If you could feel my thoughts
As they cascaded across your skin
Then touched the numb depths of your heart
Would you think differently of me?
Would you love me then?
If I had been perfect
A child without blemish
Could I have found acceptance?
It seems unfair
That I love you so, and always will.
But this must go unreturned.
If you ever want me
I’m here.
And I’ll be waiting.
If ever you decide
Just remember
I’ll always be your daughter.

Creation Story

It was just an assignment for english. Completely fiction, and not exactly at all what I believe^^ Hope you like it.

Long ago, there was a world much similar to ours, with trees, plants, animals, humans, fire, earth and water. But there was a difference. Each life, each organism was trapped in a mortal body, spirit and flesh combined inseparably. The Creator of this world did this for a reason, setting up a home for his “children” to live outside of his presence to live on their own as they grew and struggled to survive. If they succeeded in their diligence in their life, always remembering their Great Creator, they would attain glory beyond measure after death and judgment. After the course of the world was through, one of the faithful humans stood facing his creator, being granted the power of a god. A universe, solely his, to live, to create, and to make into a personal heaven if desired. But there was one catch. Being trapped still in his mortal body, it would take a separate spirit to live with him throughout the eternities in order for him to become a creator himself. So the human’s creator assigned him a creature from earth, one who had watched over him faithfully, and was now able to be a spirit and a tangible being distinctly, neither bound to the other. A great owl, head erect, feathers glistening, but eyes bright with hope and conviction flew to his now-creator human. As soon as contact was made, the Creator opened their eyes and let them through to a universe that was now theirs.
Soon alone in their vast, open expanse, the human talked to the owl. He soon became jealous of her, as he felt the presence of her spirit so strongly. Having no contact to his inner spirit welded inside of him, he grew soon frustrated. He, a human-No, a Great Creator himself, needing help from a spirit bird, a bird with no more sense than a disabled child. In his frustration, he made an attempt to kill the owl, thinking that if he could kill the bodily form of her, he could take complete control of her spirit. If he could manipulate her spirit, he figured, it would be just as well as being solitary in creating his desires. Having no means with which to kill the bird besides his bare hands, he let violent thought upon violent thought fly through his mind, and he soon set off with conviction through his universe calling out for the owl.
She heard his call and flew to him, hearing a measure of distress and was worried for his safety. Drawing nearer to him, though, she saw the anger surge in clouds through his body and her spirit warned her from coming any closer. Scared, she flew to the farthest corner of the universe. Finding herself utterly alone, she felt lost and confused. In her sorrow, she soon found that her tears did not simply disappear as she assumed, but gathered and flowed through the emptiness around her. This distressed her, and so using her memories from her past life, she tried to recreate the world she used to know. She remembered the lull of the rivers and the great trees she used to sit in. When she finally returned from dazed memories and looked around, she found that a light silhouette of all her memories formed around her, and she appeared to be sitting in an old, flowing tree that had been the place of her mortal birth. Surprised, she began to cry out in longing for her old home. As she cried, the silhouettes began to become tangible, as if her spirit were calling forth the elements from nothingness. By the time she finished her lament, a perfect recreation of the world she loved had accumulated around her. But her friends, her enemies, the living, moving beings were not yet there. Searching deep into her heart, she pulled each of the memories from deep inside. Soon, her world was full. It needed nothing more. Though her human companion had violently disowned her, she had indeed placed humans into her perfection. She had created a perfect world, one where the creatures upon it were like herself. Spirit and flesh, together because they wanted to be, not forced to be. Everything in perfect accord.
Watching from below, her vicious once-companion who sought her death watched angrily. “I have not the power to create because of this animal, so I will eternally do my best to lead away the harmony of her creation.”
The Great Owl has since watched over her earth and her people; a caring mother, never leaving her infant’s side. Her contentious oppose, commonly nick named Satan, still thwarts her creation, leading away her children into misery and despair. And thus we are.

DreamCatcher

Cuts, scrapes, bruises. The smell of apricot air heavy, clinging in clouds to the limbs and branches of the fruit trees. Two pairs of shining eyes and scampering feet danced across the bark, their laughter echoing through empty air.
“Dare you,” a voice whispered, though there was no one else to hear.
“You just watch me,” the other answered, toes springing from the safety of the tree and thudding onto warm pavement. He glanced upward, waiting for her to follow. Her silhouette danced through the air and fell next to him. Thunder on the horizon warned a storm’s coming, seeming as a signal for the two who ran into the night.
“Can you believe we’re free?” the girl said as they slowed their pace. She gave her companion a smile as warm as cherries and a small chuckle that seemed to fill her whole being.
“No,” he said, grinning, “I can’t believe it yet.”
“Well, you had better. Where we going?”
“I was thinking… maybe we should stay close. I mean, we’ve stayed here for so long. They couldn’t imagine that we’d stay so close. They’ll probably go back home. Won’t they be surprised? All they’ll find is ash and dirt. Yes, they wouldn’t think we’d stay so close.”
“You’re right. I still don’t like the fact that I feel like I could reach out and touch them if I tried. But where ever we won’t be found is where I want to stay,” came her reply and she gave a half smile, probably of reassurance but it lit up her eyes as if it were a shot of excitement.
“Let’s get to work. There’s plenty to do even here now.”
“Alright Sunny. Let’s go.”

A breeze stirred the trees, a thousand leaves touching, whispering, longing. The first few drops of rain fell, seeping down their green veins like clear ecstasy. Two figures slipped through an open window. Blank white walls leered gray with shadow from the night.
“Blue, will you start?” Sunny said as they hovered on either side of the bed where a blond child lay sleeping. Blue touched the face of the little boy and traced the runes with her fingertips. Sunny’s hands soon joined the girl’s, and, heads touching, they finished the invisible web over the child’s fair skin. The two closed their eyes and called the dreams, the lost memories, and wove them into the little boy’s unconsciousness.
“Blue, how much?” Sunny whispered, “He can’t remember these yet. He will tell.”
“He won’t remember them. He will feel them, but he won’t be able to recall. It will be okay. We won’t get caught.”
After moments that felt like sweet lifetimes, they stood up, letting their hands fall to their sides and watched the little boy, snuggled in crisp white sheets, sleep for the first time with a palette of light and color dancing behind his eyelids.
“How could they do this? How could they take away the color? All this trash about left-brain logic and genius? Math and practicality can’t make everyone happy. There’s no point in solving the world’s problems if there’s no beauty anymore.” Sunny alleged, his sad large eyes scanning the linoleum floor, the immaculate bookshelves stocked with solid grays, black and white pages nestled one against the other, each cold and stiff, page upon page of formulas and formats seeming to repel the closeness of the other.
“Why are we the only ones Blue? Out of all these people, the only ones left with the sight? If we are caught again.. I don’t think we can get out. Hell, we don’t even know if what we do to these poor kids is helping. Dreams, that’s all they are! Just dreams..” His beautiful face looked at hers solemnly.
“Sunny, we can make it better. Come on, there’s a whole city full of kids just like him. It will just take time. Dreams can make a difference. Dreams are everything. And that’s what they called us for. We’re the only ones now, but we haven’t been always. Come on. We can change this. I know it.”
Blue walked to the window and opened it. The song of the rain danced on the windowsill and fell to the floor. She turned to slip through the pane, but Sunny turned her around and kissed her softly. They both turned and crept out, closing the window gently behind them.

© 2008 Bird Krossli

Barefoot

In stirred darkness

I often go walking

Bare feet hitting cold sidewalk

Without a sound.

The city lights are bright

And I can't see the stars

over the glow of the streetlamps.

My walk turns to a run.

I leave the lights behind me.

I'll run all night if I have to

just to feel the grass

beneath my feet.