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.
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A Story of Me, Dare I Say
A Story of Me, Dare I Say
I buried my heart years before I
knew what life meant, before I ever took a moment to explore the kingdom that
is within me.
Before the coming of age, I fell
to the preaches of the popular and the cool. I listened to unsightly words become
labels of me, such as,“stupid” on needless occasions, as students looked on and
the teacher pointed. I fell prey to the voices that cluttered my existence of
who I was, and what I was meant for.
As time passed I struggled with
the savoring of poison, numbing my thoughts and the voices that crept. Feeding the urge to make it all go away with the joys of pills and the rare
occasion of coke drowned with whiskey and false laughter that came with it.
Only to end each night with quivering misery and spiteful hate toward myself.
With misery building her home
inside me, I left myself locked behind walls with tears sunken in a well, never
to be released. Skirting the thoughts that would leave not only my heart buried
but my flesh.I had demons clawing at the walls
of my mind, coming to fruition in my dreams, leaving me restless like the
ticking of a clock. Always going never stopping. Anxiety swept the air like
foul stench of rot. I found myself insatiably tasting the sour flavors of pity.
Waiting for a hand to pull me from this hell I so maliciously adored.
I thought there was nothing to
save me, that this is all I had. Yet, there was a something in me, a voice, a
voice I believe that had always been there, call it God, the universe, call it
what you may. But it found its way through the empty echoes of my shadows.
could hear it, constant, like a soft breeze to my ear, whispering for me to
create, to spill ink upon paper, to venture into myself. And when all felt that
all would collapse on me as I emptied a bottle down the dry walls of my throat,
tearful eyes clouded my sight and I found myself writing an entire book. It was
a release from all the pain and sorrow I had held inside for far too long.
Keeping it locked away like the denial of dreadful disease. I had finally found
what had always been yearning in me.
Writing broke down the walls I had built so
high and gave me a view of myself so beautiful, my heart wept along with my
soul.I now have the ability to dig up
my heart and place it in its proper home.
So now I say to you, if your
heart is buried, find that tool, that will help you dig it up. For something in
you is yearning to come to creation of life.
I believe their is a talent in all of us, have you found yours?
Here, in front of me stands a mirror. Its gleams with pristine cleanliness as I drag my eyes faithfully along its edges. Wondering, what purpose does it truly have, is this but another view of what I am?
Searching Is Not The Answer
I retract my eyes from its edges allowing sullied breath to sink into my lungs. I release this breath with an odd sense of curiosity as it breath settles upon the mirror. Now, with breath upon mirror, I watch, as it fades almost instantly. As if disdained upon my presence. Only to leave an almost translucent outline upon the glass.
And again, my thoughts wonder upon the condensation of my breath. And in watching it fade, I ponder, with intellectual eagerness , am I but not a breath from the universe, from God? Slowly fading upon the reaction of molecules and the designers final stroke of the brush.
Am I not but a reflection of what another has drawn, for what naturality can create such perfection mixed with such disaster. Playing upon the good and bad like…
Fly till your wings can hold you no more. And when you fall, fall with grace, fall knowing you will fly again. Rest your wings upon the clouds of faith. Hold dear your heart to your dreams. Glide across the open oceans of your life and catch the waves head on.
Sail bravely against the storms though you may break. And upon breaking, you shall find new ships, new wings, new winds to sail. For nothing new is found in the mundane, in the wreckage of the old. Spark your heart with a kiss for the unexpected, the unknown.
Bleed your soul of the old, of the used and stitch what remains with the grace to lift you. You are the ideal being to create your dreams. To build a solid ship that will turn waves of cruel ruin, into gentle ripples of a puddle .
Split your oceans in two with the mere faith that you have within yourself, and with that which is intangible.
Be the lighting that strikes, but do not strike out of fear. Strike out of courage, out of t…
So, I am moving from my current place into a much different setting. I have lived in my current dwelling for almost five years. But now, my money, my time, my sanity, and my comfort are being wasted here. I feel stale and feel my soul being burdened with my reluctance for change.
My financial situation is on a bit of a crutch, but nothing that can't be fixed with a simple down grade from where I am. For, far too long have I been planting my hard earned money into place that brings more stress than pleasure.
The constant statements that exceed my pockets, well beyond what I truly believe should be paid for such living conditions. But, I cannot make improvements with disparaging comments upon my living space.
So, I have decided to move in with two of my finest friends. One whom works for company that pays him well. And he is stretched with comfort of financial well being. While, I am skirting the prerequisite for becoming a man of the…