Hi, My name is Micah Park Biffle, I am the author of ' A Man's Traveled Heart,' I am a Veteran who found in understanding of my self through writing. I consider myself an architect of the imagination. Here you will see my creations come to life. My short stories, poems, my thoughts, and a little touch of my life. (I AM SLOWLY MOVING OF BLOGGER< FOR NEW STORIES PLEASE CLICK THE "MEDIUM" LINK TO THE LEFT)
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The World Has Fallen Today
The World Has Fallen Today
The world fell apart this morning, the music that once played upon my heart has grown silent. The world is still, but I am moving. I watch with sympathy and tears as this world tears apart. I see flowers strangled by violent hands from merely having petals of different shades.
I see tongues twist from the hardest soils only to poison the innocent. I feel myself floating, lost in this chaos as I struggle to lend a hand. As I praise the goodness I see. As I spread kind words to those around me and stand against the corruption of heart. I praise the goodness with prayer, with love, with an open heart and a blade. A blade set to cut the rotted tongues from our soils.
I praise goodness as I watch the floods that sweep through villages like visible plague. But I see hands reaching deep into the illness, deep into the disease and pull free the weak. Though their hands may become ill and they may pass from this life to the next.
I watch in horror as evil speaks with black clothes and a hidden face. As young minds corrupt the word of mouth. As truth becomes distorted for ones own pleasurable rise. But I do not feel anger, but sorrow, grief, for these souls. For they have been swallowed by the devils lust. Fed with a feast of lies from which is served in the temptation of movement, of change. But what I see is hate, anger, and naive blindness.
But I do not fear the out comes of these distorted souls, nor the out come of this world. For these ill brought tongues, need only a moment of truth. Though it may come with a blunt edge. Truth is no fool to corruption and the devils eye. For like the shifting of the earth. it will be felt by all.
For no soul deserves the being of hate for the devil has already brought a brimming pale. And children have been sold the devils spoiled fruits at the hands of their own blood.
I do not fear, for I know I place is at my suffering in front of me. And I burden each ounce of it with the desire to act well upon others and give more than I have. I am a man of poverty, of anxiety, and a broken heart.
But I wish no ill acts upon any, for no hate breeds wealth, health, or kindness. I am but a soul who was no better off, than the tongues that poison. But I no longer breed gardens upon ill soils, soils of pity, soils of lies, soils of pompous rhetoric.
I only act to plant seeds of new, seeds of plenty, seeds that grow from suffering but bloom with life. The world has fallen today, but I bring faith to the table, and I bring it for all.
"Let your umbrella unfold, dance beneath the rain when others won't shelter you with the echoes of love my dear." Her mother said as she kissed her upon the forehead.
Sophia looking up at her mother smiles as she holds her pink umbrella above her head. Her mother, raising up from the kiss takes Sophia by the hand and they begin to walk. Sophia, only five and her father off on a business trip, her mother becomes lonely.
And so they walk, they walk through evenings, mornings, dusk's and dawns. Watching the graceful colors of sunsets and sunrises. Sophia's mother teach's her to admire the colors before them. Not just the wonderful vibrant colors, but also the dull. The gloomy streaks of darkness.
For everything has a purpose in this world. From the thunder storms to clear skies. Sophia, holding her mother's hands as they walk through the rain looks and up and asks, "Mother, why do you cry? Do the colors of this clouded night …
A Pocket Flower
I breathe upon the cold morning glass as I look out into the open plains of the country. And with my finger I draw a heart splitting in two, it quickly fades. I look back out into the world and design a new one.
I let my senses roam wild as imagination rushes from my head like water. Flooding my view with bountiful ideas. I see titans clashing, gods fighting, I see mysteries lingering in the lonely mist. I see monsters creeping from the distant moons and music flow gently from the darkened woods.
I watch golden leaves fall as the sun begins to rise. The soft tone of frozen grass begins to sparkle. I see birds thrust from their nests and chirp to the vast outreaches of nature. I am overwhelmed by what I see, and I smile.
I breathe again upon the cold morning glass. But this time, I draw a single heart held together. I let it fade as the last, but this time I breathe upon the glass once more. I observe the heart I drew with much thought, much intrigue.
An Artist's Touch
How lovely she be, her hair curling beneath her blossoming hat. The gentle kempt design of each strain. The dark glow against the morning sun as her dark hair rests upon her shoulders. Dangling like threads of silk. Divine I say, absolutely divine.
Her eyes, their complexion spill with the delicacy of the soul. Spilling like colors of the morning sun against a glistening sea. I can feel her presence even when we are distant in stare. Their vibrant collection of life, how much she has lived in such little space, such short time.
My brush, carefully stroking against the canvass with passion. Allowing her existence to become the reality of this art. Her art, her, she is everything. How wild her curves play against the contrast of this world. Nature bares much, but there is no competition to be had.
For even nature shows she'd be foolish to rival such beauty. Her skin, smooth as the melting light from an evening moon. Her jaw, lined like the sculptures of…