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In the coming of dawn

I

In the coming of dawn

In the coming of dawn. Looking woebegone. Looking brought along. Look to the east, for dawn has come. Upon the east like a prop in play. A play that has went on through the ages. Unnoticed but missed when gone. Wake Wake to the coming of the day to silence felt in purest completeness. Listen Listen to the silence of the dawn. Where sound is felt in its absence. Every action echo thunderously through the ages. Consume Consume the many sustenance of Earth. Drink liquid Alertness. Digest the semi-solid food of the morning. Feast like Royals. I wake to routine set, maximising every second. To rise to meet a day to come. The dark encr

16.11.15

16.11.15

The day you lost everything, where nothing is left for you, all you know and love gone. Stay and you shall fade, a shadow of your former self. It wasn’t your fault, you may not believe this and all I can do is guide you away. So that when you are partly whole, you can look back. To contemplate.

Home is Behind, the World is Ahead

H

Home is Behind, the World is Ahead

Let’s sail across the seven seas, climb the highest peak. A beautiful world awaits us, it may seem a little dark, a little fucked up. I do not know what awaits us, but I know it’ll never be boring. Memories and experiences await us, a single life we have, a life of accumulated memories. Hold my hand and let’s burn brightly while our flame’s strongest. For when we start to fade, memories will be all that sustain us.

A Moment on the Crossroads

A

A Moment on the Crossroads

1967 Ford Mustang Fastback. Driving it across town. From my grandfather all the way to my brother, and finally, to me. With reluctance, apprehension against a girl behind the wheel, or maybe who or what I am. This town with its thinking its attitude, meeting you was the only redeemable thing in this town. A clear horizon, a town absent of tolerance. I will wait for you, at the diner at the edge of town. Come and we’ll drive to a place far and vast, where tolerance we may meet. Stay and we may never leave, where regret and lost will find us.

The Waystation

T

The Waystation

Smoke rises from the stone chimney door creaking open, wrapped in a thick red scarf. She steps onto the snow filled fields crackling burning wood behind her. To the north east, a dew dance across a leaf bending it with its weight and hanging at the very tip, slowly its weight bends the leaf to the surface ripples outwards across the reflective surface. I’m a wanderer with wear on my clothes stitches over them and my backpack, scars and memories etched in body and mind. A stop is but a transit enroute, a way station minimalist in construction. Tracks in water, covered in sand, or afloat in the air. A deer by the lake, ripples outwort

22/08/2018

22/08/2018

I'm a little tired, with each coming morning and every decent of the sun. As the sky turn a slow orange to yellowish hue to finally clear blue sky. Sometimes covered with a mix match of clouds, thick sometime like cotton candy that will make a child cry out in sweet induced joy, some time it is not but a wisp of smoke like some dream lost in the steam of lost stream where the invisible crush object of all that was lost flow along with this wisp of smoke. Continuing on as it reaches it's zenith where its great blaze its great radiance rain down upon all. Where some covers, while others reach out their all for it. Then it recedes slowly to the

Untitled

U

Untitled

Far and distant, beyond the horizon where the sky and sea meets. Time awaits Long roads ahead, regrets and struggles aplenty remember them but never dwell.

Observe

O

Observe

Fantasy grows ever duller            with age. We grow ever cynical and compliant            with experience. Search and fail for that moment            with eagerness. Through the eyes of a child, all is simpler. A world simple made complicated, for what? Awake from that fog of denial. Emerge from the smoke and dusts. Emerge and just observe. By the street or atop a great mountain. Just observe. No judgment, no sound but the sound of the world. Just observe in silence. As everything turns,   a moment might be glimpsed, a moment might appear, a moment of pure fantasy, a moment of miracles.

Drip, Drip, Drip

D

Drip, Drip, Drip

Drip, Drip, Drip, raindrops on the pavement, cold mossy fresh air, trees rough, soggy to the touch. Drip, Drip, Drip, raindrop on my jumper, cold yet refreshing, the ground Muddy and starting to pool. Drip, Drip, Drip, raindrop on my notebook, my hands chilled to the bone and loosing it’s senses, ink spreading across the pages. Heiz!!!!!

Time to Nut Up or Shut Up

T

Time to Nut Up or Shut Up

It is not the heart that longs for another. It is the soul, for a heart will stop and rot away, a soul will linger. Staring at her under the lantern lit walkway. Then at our friends, standing around stalls of games, food and merchandise, still discussing where to go. She wore a white yukata with a cherry blossom design. Her back to me, her hair tied into some sort of bun with some hair pins stick into it; playing on her phone. Even now, after so long of exchanging messages, whenever we’re face to face we are without words. After five years of friendship (very long to the modern teen), we still feel like strangers. With the smells and
See all

In the coming of dawn

I

In the coming of dawn

In the coming of dawn. Looking woebegone. Looking brought along. Look to the east, for dawn has come. Upon the east like a prop in play. A play that has went on through the ages. Unnoticed but missed when gone. Wake Wake to the coming of the day to silence felt in purest completeness. Listen Listen to the silence of the dawn. Where sound is felt in its absence. Every action echo thunderously through the ages. Consume Consume the many sustenance of Earth. Drink liquid Alertness. Digest the semi-solid food of the morning. Feast like Royals. I wake to routine set, maximising every second. To rise to meet a day to come. The dark encr

16.11.15

16.11.15

The day you lost everything, where nothing is left for you, all you know and love gone. Stay and you shall fade, a shadow of your former self. It wasn’t your fault, you may not believe this and all I can do is guide you away. So that when you are partly whole, you can look back. To contemplate.

Home is Behind, the World is Ahead

H

Home is Behind, the World is Ahead

Let’s sail across the seven seas, climb the highest peak. A beautiful world awaits us, it may seem a little dark, a little fucked up. I do not know what awaits us, but I know it’ll never be boring. Memories and experiences await us, a single life we have, a life of accumulated memories. Hold my hand and let’s burn brightly while our flame’s strongest. For when we start to fade, memories will be all that sustain us.

A Moment on the Crossroads

A

A Moment on the Crossroads

1967 Ford Mustang Fastback. Driving it across town. From my grandfather all the way to my brother, and finally, to me. With reluctance, apprehension against a girl behind the wheel, or maybe who or what I am. This town with its thinking its attitude, meeting you was the only redeemable thing in this town. A clear horizon, a town absent of tolerance. I will wait for you, at the diner at the edge of town. Come and we’ll drive to a place far and vast, where tolerance we may meet. Stay and we may never leave, where regret and lost will find us.

The Waystation

T

The Waystation

Smoke rises from the stone chimney door creaking open, wrapped in a thick red scarf. She steps onto the snow filled fields crackling burning wood behind her. To the north east, a dew dance across a leaf bending it with its weight and hanging at the very tip, slowly its weight bends the leaf to the surface ripples outwards across the reflective surface. I’m a wanderer with wear on my clothes stitches over them and my backpack, scars and memories etched in body and mind. A stop is but a transit enroute, a way station minimalist in construction. Tracks in water, covered in sand, or afloat in the air. A deer by the lake, ripples outwort

22/08/2018

22/08/2018

I'm a little tired, with each coming morning and every decent of the sun. As the sky turn a slow orange to yellowish hue to finally clear blue sky. Sometimes covered with a mix match of clouds, thick sometime like cotton candy that will make a child cry out in sweet induced joy, some time it is not but a wisp of smoke like some dream lost in the steam of lost stream where the invisible crush object of all that was lost flow along with this wisp of smoke. Continuing on as it reaches it's zenith where its great blaze its great radiance rain down upon all. Where some covers, while others reach out their all for it. Then it recedes slowly to the

Untitled

U

Untitled

Far and distant, beyond the horizon where the sky and sea meets. Time awaits Long roads ahead, regrets and struggles aplenty remember them but never dwell.

Observe

O

Observe

Fantasy grows ever duller            with age. We grow ever cynical and compliant            with experience. Search and fail for that moment            with eagerness. Through the eyes of a child, all is simpler. A world simple made complicated, for what? Awake from that fog of denial. Emerge from the smoke and dusts. Emerge and just observe. By the street or atop a great mountain. Just observe. No judgment, no sound but the sound of the world. Just observe in silence. As everything turns,   a moment might be glimpsed, a moment might appear, a moment of pure fantasy, a moment of miracles.

Drip, Drip, Drip

D

Drip, Drip, Drip

Drip, Drip, Drip, raindrops on the pavement, cold mossy fresh air, trees rough, soggy to the touch. Drip, Drip, Drip, raindrop on my jumper, cold yet refreshing, the ground Muddy and starting to pool. Drip, Drip, Drip, raindrop on my notebook, my hands chilled to the bone and loosing it’s senses, ink spreading across the pages. Heiz!!!!!

Time to Nut Up or Shut Up

T

Time to Nut Up or Shut Up

It is not the heart that longs for another. It is the soul, for a heart will stop and rot away, a soul will linger. Staring at her under the lantern lit walkway. Then at our friends, standing around stalls of games, food and merchandise, still discussing where to go. She wore a white yukata with a cherry blossom design. Her back to me, her hair tied into some sort of bun with some hair pins stick into it; playing on her phone. Even now, after so long of exchanging messages, whenever we’re face to face we are without words. After five years of friendship (very long to the modern teen), we still feel like strangers. With the smells and

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  • Nov 15
  • Malaysia
  • Deviant for 5 years
  • He / Him
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jackskarmaHobbyist Digital Artist

Hello You

I hope that you're well (like family and friends)

Thank you for the fav'

Wish you a beautiful day ;)

Take care and stay safe !

Many thanks for faving!I am a dummy! 
EliTanDarkProfessional Artist
Thank you so much for adding my illustration "TUNIC" to your favourites. It means a lot to me!Rose

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Many thanks for faving!La la la la 
BubbleDriverHobbyist Digital Artist
Bubble Mage by BubbleDriver emoticon Bubble by BubbleDriver Salutations ! Just dropping by to say stay strong in these tough times and being awesome !!!! Have a wonderful day !!!! emoticon Bubble by BubbleDriver
YlianoraProfessional Digital Artist
Thank you so much for the fav ! +fav Heart :happybounce: 
Erdbeersternchen Photographer
Thanks a lot for the support! 
I wish you a beautiful day :bug:

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