Silent Child

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  • Tomorrow's the day we sign off on the house. 9:30 in the morning. So excited! Gonna finally have a room to play dnd in- and a new super cool desk!
    On another note from that last post... I got a house! It's been 16 years since I've lived in one, and we move in on the 22nd!
    In this realm we call home,
    where truths often bend,
    Lies a weary heart, whose kindness seems limitless.
    A sentinel of peace, in a world so quick to fall,
    Whispers softly to the stars, "Why do I give myself away?"

    With every smile, a piece of warmth he does give away,
    Yet in return, the silence weighs heavy on his heart.
    For when the tempest rages, and his spirit starts to sway,
    The echoes of his gentle deeds seem to fade.

    "Why do I toil in gardens that others seldom see?
    Why do I mend the wings of those who'll never fly with me?
    Is there merit in the softness that I've sown with tender care,

    When at the crossroads of my anger, none seem to be there?"

    Yet, in the quiet moments, when doubt has extinguished hope,
    A spark ignites within him, beneath the endless skies.
    For every act of kindness, like a star, does softly gleam,
    If not him then few else would be so kind.

    So he holds onto his virtue, like a beacon,
    Knowing that his essence is one of the few unyielding lights.
    In the grandest scheme of life,
    despite the struggles
    The 'good guy' wants to try again.
    Silent Child
    Silent Child
    Decided I should make a depressing sounding post a poem instead... It relates to how I truly feel if I'm honest.

    As much as I hate to say it, idk why I'm so nice all the time anymore. The few times I do get upset, everyone seems to forget how I've tried to hard to make them happy before... Again, I feel bad about it, but seriously... Makes me begin to wonder if there's even a point to being the good guy anymore.
    How romantic would my works become
    If I were gone and passed?
    At least then I could say
    That my works were graced
    By the hands of an
    angel.
    What is an
    angel?
    Fundamentally, he’s just a dead little thing
    Cast to the wayside.
    Is that what I’ll become?
    I’d have no quarrel with a fate like that,
    Admittedly I would be resigned to an afterlife of contentment
    In knowing my standings
    With you.

    Life isn’t fair,

    But it never
    promised to be.
    If this were my kingdom, the streets would be lined
    With moon flowers, and my people would become immune.
    No toxin would ever harm someone like you, someone like me,
    Or anyone akin.
    Flowers seem to understand the preciousness of life, they help in every way.

    This kingdom breathes a rhythm of its own,
    Where moon flowers glow, casting silvery tones.
    A sanctuary where the air is a tapestry,
    Woven with the threads of peace.

    Here, the sun doesn't just rise—it awakens,
    A guardian of days, each moment precious.
    And when it sets, it's not an end but a pause,
    A promise that light persists, without a reason.

    Rivers don't just flow; they narrate,
    Carrying stories of the earth within.
    Trees, timeless sentinels, whisper secrets of the ages,
    Their leaves writing history's unwritten scripts.

    Children's laughter is a language universal,
    Their hopes unbound, their spirits lifted.
    Elders share their sagas not with sadness,
    But as a testament to all tomorrow.

    Love is not decreed; it simply resides,
    In every gesture, every glance it conceals.
    In this realm, where you and I dare to dream,
    Our souls find solace,

    Our hearts relieved.
    Silent Child
    Silent Child
    The thing about this poem... Is that moon flowers are actually my favorite flower. I'm actually gonna grow some soon. (For us flower geeks, the real name is Ipomoea Alba... Or Tropical white morning-glory)
    In the quiet meadow of my heart,
    She dances
    A silhouette against the canvas of my mind,
    A whisper of green in a world of monochrome.

    She's the first breath of spring,
    The promise of life in the emerald leaves,
    A gentle touch of moss against the stone,
    The verdant pulse of the earth beneath my feet.
    In her presence, I am a painter with no need for blue,
    For she is the hue of life's continuous thread,
    A vision of the color green
    My love, my muse, my springtime dream.

    I hear the rustle of her dress, a soft green whisper,
    As she tiptoes into the quiet of my world.
    I feel the flutter of my heart, a frail bird

    I hear the melody of her movements,
    And the poetry of her presence fills the room.
    I see her, though my eyes are heavy,
    Not from sleepless nights, but from dreams filled with her.
    Time, once a relentless march, now dances to her rhythm,
    And I wonder at its newfound grace.
    My tasks, a mountain range of musts and maybes,
    Now valleys at the sight of her smile.

    Mirrors reflect the past, but she is my present,
    A vision of now, and a promise of tomorrow.
    I tap my foot, a steady beat to her serene symphony,
    The soft collision of reality and reverie.
    I tap my pen, not in calculation, but in creation,
    For she inspires sonnets, not solutions.

    My head, once clouded, now clear,
    As if her love has lifted the fog of solitude.
    I walk, no longer alone, but alongside her,
    And even stumbles become steps in our shared journey.
    The world spins stories of significance and scarcity,
    But with her, every tale is one of abundance.
    Meaning is not given, but grown,
    In the garden of our togetherness.
    One plus one is more than math; it's magic,
    The kind that happens over coffee and quiet confessions.

    The world thinks we aren't actors, but authors,
    She sits, listening, living, loving,
    In her, I find purpose.
    She is the compass, the constellation,
    The map, the journey, the question and the answer.
    In this world of ours, of
    whispers and wonders,
    She is the reality, the truth, the heart.
    Silent Child
    Silent Child
    Couldn't add color, a font, bold, or italic without going over the character limit- the poem was originally twice as long too XD. Maybe next time I'll post it in two parts. One half up top, the other half in the comments...
    hii! Some fun facts for ya
    • There are 293 ways to make change for a dollar.
    • Scotland's national animal is a unicorn
    • Switzerland prohibits the ownership of just one guinea pig
    • Sloths can hold their breath longer than dolphins.
    • Venus is the only planet that spins clockwise.
    I found a place you can “adopt a ghost” and get Swords at at the same shop. For super cheap! Not sure if any the swords are real but still
    DID YOU HEAR THE NEWS????? I GOT NOT ONE BUT TWO NEW KITTENS!!!IMG_2265.jpegIMG_2272.jpeg
    Their 5 months old
    Silent Child
    Silent Child
    Aw- cute. I hadn't heard but now I have- that's great XD congrats!
    Nokumi dreemur
    Nokumi dreemur
    THANKS! the black nose is tuxy and the white nose is tipsy. Tipsy is a girl she loves to chew things. Tuxy is a boy and he loves to lick me for some reason. He’s cuddly too but also eats things he’s not supposed to like feathers and paper. Tipsy is camera shy. Speaking of tipsy she smelled her foot and made this faceIMG_2280.jpeg
    Nokumi dreemur
    Nokumi dreemur
    Whyyyy your fun to talk to!!!! WE JUST GOT THE GANG BACK TOGETHER WITH LUNAAAAR WE WERE HAVING SO MUCH FUNNNNN ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU JOINED INNNNNNNNNNN
    Nokumi dreemur
    Nokumi dreemur
    How am I supposed to bug you now. I can’t just spam up your profile and also how are we gonna have those conversations we usually have with minty! Lunar might even join in!
    Nokumi dreemur
    Nokumi dreemur
    ;^; I know it’s not that often but still!
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