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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Seventy Years Of Love
Seventy Years Of Love
Waves collide as laughter echoes through the cold air. Two, walk the shore line as kisses are exchanged in the collection of love. A melody erupts within their hearts, a melody so strong, a thousands symphonies could not match it.
The stars dance along, shining bright in this moment. Hands held together, creating a single point of strength. As bare feet press gently into the sand, leaving behind memories. Washed away the sand becomes barren of any indentations.
But they walk on, with no time to look back. As the night takes them to far away places. Diving deep into eyes, finding the wonders of the soul. Feeling the cool ocean caress their feet. It is perfection in now, everything fits. They sit at the shore as they gaze upon the moon. Swooning in this moment with nothing else upon their minds but eachother.
They turn with romance and embrace. The waves crash upon their bodies, rushing away with just enough force to make them feel as if to be pulled back. Love binds them, this moment binds them. Piano strokes find themselves within their hearts.
They take up stance, pressing their bodies close and begin to dance. They waltz along the shore and look to nothing else but each other. Memories play in a reel as they smile with no regrets of the steps they have taken in each other.
Adventure was once their life, great heights of joy. But now they are two fallen leaves from a tree. Slowly following the wind as it pushes them. Seventy years and not a moment less. Each year better than the next. Though much frustration found itself in the cracks of love.
But no great thing is held by feeble hands, nor built overnight. -----
Thank you for reading, I hope love finds you as it found these two.
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 …