fantastic Revelation ( uneditade )

     The rain starts raining over the forest... and the dwelling of fantasy starts spreading thoughts allover the world giving the place a concentration of its' own. It looks as if the rain brings a verse to the tearful face of the one who decides to wonder and it also loooks like the opening of a different era, a road to innitiation of primordial stages taking one's mind to another more advanced level.
  As the beings emerge from behind the branches, magical wolves start chanting a song in the old forgotten language and call the  living to a secret gathering. In the middle of the woods there are figures painted on mist, winged ghosts made of antimaterial peaces and the * thinking thinkers*. They have a humanlike look only that they can use their brain upto full capacity. While they're talking they can think about the next thing they will say two days from now. Their friends, the weatherers control the rain judging by their feelings. Sky wars were created because of their different factions. Some were sad and called upon a short heavy torrent to wash their tears away while the others in a more stronger emotion summoned a fast emerging sun that would dry the rain away and clear up every pattern.
  The strongest by far are the Starriers. Warriors of the stars, they  are so marvelous for they are half human and half pegasus with the most amazing wings. Embroidery made of stardust make them establish the order of the night and fly over a darkened sky bringing dreams to ordinary people and controling their wishes not to mention the greatest desires through shooting stories cast into the simplest human mind....
  The starriers are preparing to close down the weatherers' rain and set out to the big cities where souls have to drown in an intense poetry.  The forest is so deep and the harmonious wings cover everything with a soft light of dust spreading a nice jasmine fragrance over the beings that dive into the world of subliminal sleep. If something goes wrong the starriers will bring disorder to the constelations so they are obliged to live in an objective peaceful state. A rebel starrier however falls from the sky and a concentrated human under the influence of lucide dreaming makes a wish at the window. He wants to find eternal love. The  fallen starrier recepting that superficial wish makes a last attempt to live eternaly and transfers his wings over to the human who awakes in a wild rage in the forest where the weatherers set up a thoughtful burst of rain for the fallen one. Human Starrier turns into a set of thoughts and his partially winged pegasus body brings up his desolation. Will he now fly with the others? No. He has no wish of doing so . He tears up his wings and because of his artistic feelings he starts decorating the trees with star fragments until he makes small drawings of magical signs. Then he creates a musical instrument from his tail using wood and his strong hairs as strings thus paying a tribute to the rainmaking weatherers who will now chant a variety of phenomena and then he pais tribute to the ghosty creatures and the thinking thinkers giving his soul to the first ones and his mind to the latter. His body is tribute to the ground along with the former rebel starrier and thus he is thankful for allover the place where his presence is felt there is a strong feeling of eternal and universal love....
  The forest has long since been forgotten by humans.... thus the storyteller  finished his bedtime story while keeping me all the time at high concentration power.
 But can the forest still be found?
Everyone can find it as long as something is given for the sake of joy and love.
  Today as years went by I have learned the meaning of tribute but I have also learned that giving and taking are both the same for nothing is unpayed by laws of nature be it good or ill... The one who gives will always receive and the one who gets will give unknowingly if not by free will. I always got what I gave however I am wondering of the concepts I must give in order to optain a truthful meaning... Another essential thing is that I should also give my patience for an answer and when a soul is in its' right state  the perfect symbol will appear out of nowhere and then with only two or three simple words I might learn the identifying of inner ballance so as to turn myself into a starrier and reset my world for the right recipe of sweet nightly dreams.

Purple Eyes

Holding me captive... holding a gun to my head allowing me to drift away into liberty before dawn, asking more of me than I could master, making me write his book so fast and  obviously.... for him it was too slow.
   The Great Head of the Congregation struck me with his stunning purple eyes into which I could dive and drown a lake of poetry. Touching my cold hand as still as marbel he started painting a new line to the scrypt of links and I accepted... I could not refuse those purple eyes so I cut my hair for them, I painted my face in non-colours for them and I denied my name for that of devotion.....
   Early morning.... Clock Strikes the hour... I awake.... My innocent son is expecting me to cover him with affection.... I do so and then send him to the place where his mind has to be  reforged for the course of morning to afternoon... He leaves  asking why my eyes so disturbed and sad mutter a song of the Ocean and why does the raindrop not make a miracle of bringing sparks of seven colours to form a perfect spectral wave... I smile and give him yet another kiss... what an  unexplicable feeling... I let him believe it's just the weather ... My son is dislexic and I don't think he can get the notion of purple but maybe I'm too superficial... Had my eyes been purple I would have made him the growing image of the same colour's metaphore for me and for others....
   The street is beautiful just as special as those eyes that stunned me stealing everything out of my mind... I charge my telephone by sunlight and I feel it's growing hot... The man and his gun pick my soul up from the next stop and as I myself climb on top of the flying cart I can see my soul reflected in my review mirror... I cannot work as I'm sleepy and my judgement has left me but the gun is coldly touching my head ... or is it a shard of the review mirror.... All makes sense now... I pull out my phone and take a picture of those behind me... No reflection... The ghosts fall into unmaterialism and non-existing theories as I go to school with a bagfull of food and sweets for my son's lunch... I cannot believe I have forgotten those in the morning... Yet he is smart enough and lightyears ahead of me so he playfully pushes me aside :
  * Hello there , dear mama! No need to have worried I went to the Fast Food with my mates and  it was no need for me to read for I matched my imagination with the pictures on display and by only one touch I could figure out the money so no need for reading... You don't have to say ( I've brought you....) I knew you would come but I was too hungry to wait for you so I managed on my own... You may leave the stuff here I'll eat later with the others and... by the way ... I made a change... I asked my mind to paint my eyes in purple! Thought it's nicer! Everyone says I'm the school's most special kid now and... somehow I knew you would like me better like this...!*
  He runs away with his friends and I stare at him in deep admiration and bewilderment... All I can now think of is *purple eyes...* nothing but those misterious and powerful * purple eyes..... *

DreamVision- Flying Within Flight

  This is how the unexpected looks like..... I cannot capture it in my small dreamcatcher and compress them within because they are so small, the little emotions of anxiety and the small intuition that prevents me from throwing myself over the window.... My flying class is over... Let me awake from this troubled dream... And it hits me... the stunning light of reality, my eyes so full of sleep roll over everything they can percept and the running representation of what I previously had in mind vanishes into an abstract quite far away from the current zone...
   I'm on an aircraft which has been flying for five hours and I am preparing for three more in which I also have to quickthink a landing strategy. The marvelous computer invented to guide my flight while I go on another extra journey to explore the back of my mind , has done a propper job yet the indicators stay the same. It is then I realise my machine is flying but going nowhere.. Stuck up in the air in my peacefulness I try to write a song over the key controllers... It is time to land somewhere... anywhere and nowhere at the same time .... My soul who now walks away from me shows an ironic smile and takes my person cracked and discarded over my dreamcatcher just like broken glass, like a superstition, like a premonition, like the colours of betrayed art.... and my art is looking towards my soul and I, both expecting to hold on to the wings of an archangel and instinctively, my thoughtless fingers press any button there can be found to change the course of destiny.... The wings are angry and they beat so hard that I come to think I am on the back of a fantastic bird, flying towards dystopia, so let her fly wherever she wants... there will be somewhere to go as there is no link to the control tower... Then I turn around and feel myself shaking... There is a loud voice :
* Captain!! Please awake!! We have to land!! ˆ ... And I wasn't only dreaming... my catcher is gone, I cannot find it however at the moment I do not feel like touching the artefact ... not now... Landing by force... I am tired... Yet for now I do not wish to dream again unless I find out the exact state of the place I am travelling to... I might some day bring something to life that could link my worlds in perfect harmony... till then I shall only touch my artefact with gloves.......

LoveLetter Ink

Ink? Where  has it all gone? I might have spilled it allover his heart when I wrote the last letter and now I can go without because I'll take it back from him and write again.....
  My dearest of dear souls :
  I was your lonely writter who spilled ink over your heart and now instead of red and beautyful I made it blue and ill. I decided to make you fall in love without letting you know who I am or ever see me. Have you ever tried climbing a montain in your own created story so that the peek may greet the sky with a snowy hand? Have the stars painted a miracle over your sleepy white face at night when soft wings touch your sincerity of exploring dreams?... Did you ever see me in any kind or conceptual shape just before I sickened your heart? How could you turn my world upside down with all those existing thoughts which you sent me in a wave of lonelyness?.... I thought I could run out of inspiration but somehow it is you who force me to make your illness harder and harder to bare, sweet creation of universal knowledge, my nightsky cover of invasion, the bleeding rose that greets you in the morning with my fictive smile painted on imaginary paper on which I know it's only me you draw day and night.  Your white noble face with the blue fever of my ink with the venom of love cought in my words with each static second progressively growing making the notion of beauty turn into a magical different dimmension before the break of dawn which kills the night and turns me into fiction.
  I shall never stop drowning your mind in all my feeling and now that the Moon is tired I shall go to my eternal sleep once more....
 Sincerely yours....

I dissappear...
 Wake up dearest, painter in ink and colour by daylight, once more trying to depict my face in a small illustration so that you may draw a great and marvelous picture some day regarding the way you see me in your nightly dreams. You have not succeeded most unfortunately however even if I am unreal I was always one step ahead. I could now write in words what blinding energy sent me to mind... Until the next night that might bring me a new monologue for you better hide all that you paint for you will be accused and I do not want you executed... Oh... if I could only talk clearly maybe you could understand...
See what you have done? The ink that sickened your heart is gone in some abstract painting not in link to me ... now I am left without a signature... it's harder still to write as you didn't keep any more for me by throwing it away from your heart....
  Sweetly you have taken over and the storry is now only a memory of drifting nights  in which I will try constructing more ink from stardust till I shall once again return......

World War- War Within and Brainhunt

...  I thought that morning had something better to bring however it was not so. I went out to the window and gazed at the sky. It was full of fire and gunshots could be seen from a distance. I had to breathe once again the air and the smoke of war touching my unwashed skin dirty with blood and the filth of too much killing. I felt once more the pain of my bleeding body and turned away from the sight. The clock struck six AM and I went to catch up with the little drop of watter that had to wash my face and dry two more of the tears I shared at night with my prayerbook. The man next to me opened his eyes. He could not stand up and could not speak because of the pain of gunshots. As I  was staring in the broken looking glass I found my head growing up a daze and I felt my eyes heavy. So I grabbed hold of my gun and controling my feet to stand on solid ground I started counting from one to ten in German to keep my mind concentrated with the warlanguage I was studying. Apparently it didn't help at all . I must have fallen to the ground and the broken mirror was now floating over my head. But it became more than just a looking glass, it was like an artefact screen projecting a gathering of stars. The stars somehow in my mind were all representative figures of numbers which formed in some kodes the symbol  of Nazzi Party of World War  II. The figures then started twisting and turning and disolved into darkness. When I woke up all that I could see was a darkened nightsky and in my pocket  the piece of mirror in which I was gazing before breakfast. I stood up in the middle of a deserted battlefield. A man came towards me and struck me hard. I punched and hit and stabbed him with my knife but it looked as if he wasn\t bleeding at all. He grabbed hold of my mirror then directed  it to my face. I felt a soft touch on my forhead and something being pulled out. Then as they say I was left without  memories or identity so I chose to project my soul on the grass filled with warblood and let my body rest next to all the others. I am now a soul in search of the mirror for I am left without logical or rational thought and I will now look for it all over where I may find it. Death withoug logic is a very subjectively chosen wrong deed and so I have to make the right of it some day....

An Artist Being Watched

.... And it is true, the truth I can see from a distant window....
 He was holding his eyes up to the sky , asking the gods for a final answer... his eyes were grey, so grey that wintery snow in iced tears transpired from a wonderful serenity of told and retold memory stories tangled all together like a web of truth covering a soul of mistery. As night struck the hours of cold he started asking up the questions of the essence of life and started wondering if here were any being on the planet answering his deeds, fulfilling his thinking amount and empathising with his certain blissful harmony. In his lonelyest corner he sold his soul and Art in the form of a goddess dressed in black took it for granted. He then began to dive in a mistery from the cup of stollen nectar from which the reincarnated child drinks day by day and deprives the world of yet another and yet another deadly secret. The corner was now painted in hot colours that burned the one without a soul and he chose to  press his back and his iced beloved eyes to the window at night so that the stars that still talked to him would  provide an answer about fundamental destiny. Since he was the creator of a hidden conspiracy that had all of the known and unknown deep deep within a goldmine he also turned the sun up and down in the ellementary of nothing with each circular majestic gaze of his mirrorlike stare. Dust of time covered him and his books each and every star falling upon him with an answer at dawn taking over one more life, one more child and another son who paid tributary work to the man with no soul gave up another rythmic pass of a heart and restrain from feeling love chosing the feeling of supreme knowing a peace of everything in an evolutionary state.
  It was all only a recovered dream for when I woke up at night , me the observer could still see him there as silent and noble as a painted statue neeting and kindly telling tales about life and what there was  beyond , his voice as soft as silk and his wisper as melodic as a tune taking one far far away in a place never to return from again.....

cannot give a title....

    I used to have a dream which turned into shards of mirrorglass before those before me... I have mistaken and crawling alone on a street covered in blood and misery. The pile of words brought hopelessness to the deathbed of low frequency that turned my soul into a thin fluid translucid silent misticity forgotten for the time. All good deeds were burried under the soil of evil behavior and no matter how nothing ever made a change. An attempt for recovery made it all for a trial of struggle and hardship while an attempt of illness would drag it all worse and worse for worrying blisses all around me. The hopelessness of the untrusted and the guilty is the worst feeling of them all, so said my mind beautifully covered in fear and blame waiting for the eternal night to possibly end  at some point. This is a moment of conscious black realism all deeds were for nothing and I am worth nothing right now.
  For this I thank all readers and for a while this blog will ot receive any update till my mind gets at least a little bit later as not to kill every spark of light I set into some place or another. I have to pay with discouragement and low thoughts for all my wrong in thought and fact and thus I will not darken the wings of destiny with my pain for I wish that soon I might mount them again and fly towards the stars.....