Deep blue space or perhaps dark, the transfusion of imagination to the beliefs of mediocre. I am my own madness, finger-counted are the ones that could understand and listen. What an odd fellow ye might say. Exhausted from society, expectations and stereotypes can cause more harm than the most recognized. Folly behavior, folly actions. Spare your defeatist thoughts for how fragile the dawn of ideas may be. You and you, the Visionary concentrate, focus. Deny any droplets of pessimistic thoughts. For any who may not agree, encourage to parachute their understanding. Dreams are worth fighting for, never forget that young padawan.

Lovely giant sitting in the middle of the wild forest admiring the beauty of nature. Lost-lost-lost, doubt-doubt-doubts. Snapdragons all over heads of people. How I've missed the fuzzy warmth of comfort when retiring at night. Pleasure reading all day to waste the day. A warm embrace, can't move but filled with fondness. The gusty wind on a New Year's eve night accommodated with drizzles. Sprinkles to wrinkles, lost, not gone. Disappointment if failed but damned if did not at all. All over the place, jack of all trades, not a master of one. More or less, more is less, less is more. We crave more; we need less.

Such a glorious sight to see the skies’ hue in the sunset, especially after a long hard day. As the cherry blossoms fall, not all befall. Such big waves in the middle of the ocean, only to ripple on your feet. Lost feelings of butterflies flying around. Deep under the Mariana Trench or Up above Mount Everest or even in the middle of the long grass field, sadness and temporary joy still inhibit me. I took the road less traveled only to realize loneliness, confusion, and fear accompany me on my journey. I still await for them to leave me alone.

Rippling thoughts on the mind create manipulation all throughout the body. We are what we believe in; none could agree more. White lilies all around the body of the newborn child. The weird, the unusual, and the mad are the only ones authentic enough to create their own realities for the mediocre only lives inside the vision of an old mad man. Thoughts have been polluted with hatred and narcissism combined with camaraderie that destroy the pathway to another way of life. Life of unacceptance but filled with compassion in death. Pity me not for recognition is not what inspires me. The cultivation of our attitudes towards others is what I want.

The serene wilderness untouched by humans can create the perfect home for the lost. Only fools will live in such. But aren’t we all fools for something we believe in? A night that shouts in the open field can change the eyes of the tribe that dances with the woodfire. Cover your ears little child for we shall remain authentic in our thoughts. Genuine discussions about philosophies and values are what I live for. Cloudy skies with a slight breeze on the mountaintop are what I long for. Growing sunflowers on the side of my cabin house.

The moonlight that yells joy to the city. The Nightlights giving life to the dead streets. Restaurants fully occupied with tulips on each table. People long for rest but believe they do not need to. We have lost the way of caring for other people. We think too much and love too little. Too many people being ugly to each other. Broken glasses shattering inside my head. The Lies and The believing could not agree more. The beacon arises that can anew this demoralized world. None realized that the beacon only lives within us, deep inside of our emotions whom we cast a giant red brick wall to hide in.

Short story #2 - In childbirth, it rained daisies. But in death, water drops, teardrops, blood drops. Leaps not taken, regrets have been awakened. The breeze on a summer day rustles with the leaves. Water of contentment has been drunk every day. Never a day he wanted more. For the land of society told him “Stay, Good Job”. Deception and Fallacious books flooded the home of the thinking. Perhaps it may be for the greater good. Nature provides, we supplied until subjugation. Abide and defied water drops, teardrops, blood drops. Life goes on. Bluebirds, singing a song all day long.

A short story - The wind blows through the evening forest as it goes beyond the ever-green field, swaying the daffodils. As I walk with my unclear thoughts, suddenly, the ocean approaches my toes. I had a feeling of looking up. Whispers saying, look up, look up. As I did, I saw the sky filled with clouds I tranquility and serenity. I see the flocks of crows above and beyond, free from the complexities of the modern life. In this world, the crows are the most beautiful, and in the world that I lived in; they are often misunderstood for their appearance. None may care, but I care.