As we grow up we begin to fear silence

Afraid to be alone with ourselves

As kids silence was a time for imagination

Now it's an internal examination

Ever wonder why so little take the time to pray

Probably because we're trained to keep our thoughts at bay

We are constantly staring at screens

Or engaging in shallow conversations

We hardly notice the time fly by

Rarely stop and ponder "who am I"

So worried about our image that the surrounding eyes reflect

That we don't self reflect and behind our own eyes inspect

With others opinions we'd be less concerned

If we took the time to look within and learn

Who we are and who we want to be for ourselves

And quit letting others determine our self wealth

Wherever this road leads to, it's messy and winding

Our feet couldn't take any more crap if it does walk

Starting up an engine isn't that hard now, mind you

Once this electric heart starts pushing and shoving

There's no stopping it, just be ever so careful

When it does burn, it'll burn in an everlasting feat

Never mind them all, they'll get burnt sooner

"Cos once this electric heart starts pushing

Careful of your words, it might feel a bit insecure

But trembling, it will carefully attach itself nowhere

It might explode from time to time, to let you know

It isn't death that can stop us from living everyday

It's but the agony of our souls waiting to be free

That when our minds get sick of all the rationality

Our hearts will pause and smell the remaining life

Available to us all, that button waiting to be pushed

No wonder people stop and stare when they hear

The "boom!" "Boom!" and soon starts pouring in

Bleeding what seems to be of unnecessary blood

Every single word written on this previously blank page is now having its own distinct ripple effect upon the ocean of your soul. The words begin as pure ideas - pure atoms of information - thereafter inducing the appropriate vibrations to animate the necessary notes to activate the corresponding pixels comprising the front-end client you are presently perceiving. There is a reason why magic is impossible without first conjuring the right words and ensuring their proper vibration. So the matter is quite simple, then; master words, master magic.

Sorry all you third-eye-closed-minded motherfuckers.

Magic is real. Right. Here.

Enjoy.

I have never connected with anyone

As i have with you

Understanding each other

Like no one else does;

I have never connected with anyone

As i have with you

You're the sun into my moon

Giving me all the light

When I needed to;

I have never connected with anyone

As i have with you

We're so in sync

Like music ---

creating great tunes;

Like ocean waves

That hits the shore

Like seasons change

from spring to fall

the stardust once sang to the broken church

and the windows are covered with a dusty loath

opening doors to the hidden choirs

the people once went there to pray

receiving flashbacks of the storms

waiting for the snow to pile on the corpses they lost

to forget the misery behind the soft angelic whispers

and enjoy the delicate blooming of a flower

trying to forget

that they are next

the world is fast

while they are ever so slow in their footsteps

the sky is spinning and spinning

as they fall asleep

haunted

by their dark fate

go to sleep the angels sang

go to sleep forever

while that daisy blooms its

innocent way into this timely world

We all think that we have to have our lives planned out by a certain age or we will never get it together. That is one of the biggest lies floating around in our air. We breathe it in and it clings to our lungs and the closer we get to our self made deadline, the harder it is to breathe.

We have all of these dreams and passions and desires. We cannot figure out which one we want to live our lives for, but choosing one over the others feels like having 4 children and deciding that you will only love one, and the other 3 must fend for themselves - they learn to survive or they die, but it won't be any of your concern.

We do not have to choose. We have a lot of seconds and minutes and hours. We have to cultivate all our passions in order to harvest our purpose. Our hopes and dreams are what give us the motivation to go on living. You can't put all of your stars in one sky or you'll never know that there are thousands of galaxies waiting for you to discover them.

We are told to choose what we want to be from a young age, but they never tell us that we can be more than one thing. We can be rock stars and lawyers. We can be writers and party planners. We can be parents and paralegals. We can be astronauts. We can be lovers. We can be healers. We can be everything!

Why limit yourself to only one passion when you are full of untapped purpose?! Why schedule your life by years when time doesn't really exist. There are days and nights, light and dark, and we it can all belong to us if we will only choose to be brave! Be courageous enough to take the universe in your hands and declare that you are everything, and everything is you. -AshleyAnne

Swirling black clouds smudged the sky a sinister and foreboding sneer. The morning wore a blotchy smeared lipstick; the soldier wore warpaint and bullet holes. Rain reappeared only to peer down its nose at them all. They had reached a fork in the road, broken in half - the infantry would struggle taking the first rock littered path, the horses were ill equipped for the second boggy, marshland path.

Retreating what was left of the army from a bloody battle the general committed the men on horseback, to the rocks and the infantry on foot, to the marshes. He reapplied camouflage paint on his face and his final gravely spoken instruction reaffirmed an unsaid agreement in the minds of the men - should a single shoe or a single hoof stumble now then it would cost the lives of them all.

If you can sense the calamity

In a day, you could feel

There's a sense of urgency

With every breath and forgery

You succumb to be by yourself

Torn apart, you move ahead

Ahead of the herd and groups

When you feel the need to

Who's going to stop you

From being who you are

In the process, people won't like

And you are going to step on

The toes of which you used to

Walk with, now you're stronger

And nobody cares what you do

YOu shouldn't care about them

It's just you and the world

Stop the panic, mend what's broken

You'll never know who you are

If you keep listening to them

The smell of pennies filled the tiled floors and fluorescent lights with a thick, wet urgency that seeped from the cracks in the pale pink walls and weighed heavily on her broken wings. Blind heat shone through her fractured ribs and quarts of quarters billowed out between her lips. With her hands slick with metal and eyes tired with lead she began to slip; falling into comforting cool darkness that reminded her of the feeling of your temple pressed to a glass on the road to nowhere on a subway train or a car filled with people you've known all your life but have never really known. Her heart flew out of chest and reached up her throat. She could almost make out her own voice catching on the air as she gasped for redemption.

Crescendo Crescendo Crescendo.