Hi, My name is Micah Park Biffle, I am the author of ' A Man's Traveled Heart,' I am a Veteran who found his way back 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.
They are in our sleep, our minds, and our hearts. They linger in the dark like a passenger in an empty coach. Watching with reds eyes and a black soul. They chatter amongst each other like crooked politicians. Seeing what schemes they may press upon you with minimal resistance. Waiting for opportune times to stretch your mind till it snaps.
Spilling all reasoning from it like spit from a Novocaine mouth. They shriek in hopes to bring you fear like a child lost in the moonlight. They fester like illness and scratching them only spreads them like a virus. And with no avail, no single soul has found a cure. For they breech all walls with little persistence.
They swim between the beats of our hearts and dwell in our veins. Waiting with absolute patience.
But what are they, you may ask?
They are but us, our reflection, our many faces we place upon our soul. Each face meaning something else, each given strength with each wear. And with little effort to become the dominant.
They are but our thoughts, our choices, and our values. They cater to our weakness and build within our misery, our suffering, and our tragedy. Looking for that single link to cut in the chain, living us in a state of depraved depression.
Lulling our dreams to sleep and murdering our faith in our love for ourselves.
But bring not fear to the reading of this. For, if they are but us, then we are in control. We are but the one whom may condemn them, or bring them wealth.
But in the damning of their retched existence, one must be potent in the belief of self. Commanding in the creation of thought. And willing to embrace the need for constant change.
Though there be no cure, there is the ability to live beside them with peace. And find a life flowing with the joys of happiness.
But one must be constant in the potency of self and the commanding of thought. And comfortable in the embracing of change. All, which come with practice and earning in patience.
Thank you so much for reading! If you like what you read, then A Man's Traveled Heart is a perfect match for you.
Also, follow me on Facebook for exclusive FB poems and updates on my next book!
Also, follow me on Twitter for exclusive twitter only poems!
To those that are depressed, I bring you these words and hope they fill the belly of your soul and nourish your heart,
Today, may be tougher than the former or maybe not. Maybe, today is like any other day, you struggling to remove yourself from your bed is but a wishful feat and nothing more. As you are coiled in the monotony of sadness that seeps from you like foul breath; from a desperate evening of melancholy. Maybe, the mere action to place a smile upon your face may feel like lifting the world from your chest.
I know these feelings well, I know them as well as I know the color of my eyes. I know when even a sunrise is no more joyful than a slaved day at work. When the world is pressing you into the unimaginable sinking of despair.
Where the air is thin but anxious thoughts a rabid. Where colors fade and all you see is grey and the whispers of death sound so sweet. Maybe you have fallen much further than I, where the act of infliction's don't jus…
A Beast Among the Flames
Lighting strikes the open plains setting the dry grass ablaze. Fires start to rise from the hill tops in the distance like signals. I can feel the heat from the flames that blaze only yards from me. The sweet scent of wet grass resonates against the smell of burning earth.
Smoke melds with the dark clouds above, forming a fondness for each other. I can feel my chest rising with heavy breaths as I prepare my mind. This is either the end or a start to another day. Kneeling on one knee I press myself up and stand.
I look around me as the world before me looks as if hell is bursting from earth. In the chaos I find serenity, for I am built for this, trained for this.
I finished my indulgence of my surroundings and pull my sword from the ground.
I raise it with my right hand pulling it near my chest. The point of my blade stands five inches above my head. I close my eyes and start to rhythmically pound the armor of my chest with my other hand.
"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 …