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.
This earth is no placed to be fixed, no place to be at a single
point. Ah, the wonders that lie ahead. A nomad must a heart be. To truly
embrace the eclectic sanctuary that is the ever expanding universe. Spinning us
around and around a hundreds of times a year. Creating a connection to
something that could boil us an instant if we drew too close. Frightful is this
and if caught in a sudden stop, we would fling from the comfort of our grounds
and we would burn like the stars.
This danger excites the heart.
It pierces the simplicity of boredom when one finds the utmost danger in the
utmost simplistic scenarios. And from those minut thoughts of tickling fear of
adrenaline, blossoms knew growth for adventure. Seeking the ends of each cliff,
only to leap and find yourself soaring among the clouds.
For today, breath could be
taken away. A poison could scatter among the air, snuffing out the beauty that
is nature. Consummating death to all, cutting burdens of many spoiled hearts of
their easy issues. No more would you hear frustration over the forgotten items
at the store. No more would the echoes of pity spill into the delicate ears of
the soul. No more would tunneled eyes of anger find home among broken
Silence would lay upon the
earth as does a feather upon a bird. Fluttering to the whims of what it cannot
control, but being a part of something so bold. But that is not what is, at
least not in the present of what is now. For now, I spring my heart to the
outlandish, to the unknown. I frolic in the winters for something hidden,
something spectacular beneath all the frost.
Finding grace in even the most
dead and dull blades of grass. The overwhelming sense of comfort as I can walk
back to the confines of my home and feel cold no more. What blessings we have
created with such magnificent minds.
The ever-tantalizing voyage of
thought never even caresses the end of it all. Incomprehensible is the thought
of the end. Even in the sudden death of a loved one, many act still as if time
swoons them with lemniscate of life. Leading them to loiter in the agony and
bleed their soul to what is gone. Bringing resentment to self, to life. Drawing
dark eyes into their now empty home. Preying among the soft whispers that tell
them to move on.
much have we created, and I wish to taste it all. To become fervor in the ideas
of the simple, to allow myself to build the most complex thoughts. Designing
beyond reality, at least what cannot be reality of today. What sadness finds me
when lips form apathy in the daily.
habits that go no further than what was yesterday. Cold does a soul become of
such acts, madness will
find the mind. And not the madness that transcends one to
the mountains of the heavens. But madness that leads one to become the idle hands of the devil.
Lacerating the heart of even a page of hope. Brewing up sores that cause pain
even in the waking of the eyes.
earth is no excuse to be dissatisfied, for many even in the most ill of life's.
Find more excitement, than a
man upon a golden crown.
Thank you for reading, want more inspiring and soul riding words like this?
The Scar of War And His Suicide To Escape It
He returned with a heavy heart. With a fierce storm raging in rain, thunder, and dark clouds. Memories of war collided beneath his chest. His lost brothers he could feel in the very bones of his soul. Nothing felt the same in this place he called home.
No words could describe the surmountable anguish that tore each second at his mind, creating a vast chasm. Loneliness slowly consumed him. Leaving him branded as a mental case, coming unhinged to reality. Drowning in the constant flavor of hops. Leaving no moment to be sober. Covering the storm with another, that if the fog became to thick to see, then his pain did not exist.
Flooded with anxiety of what he left behind in the chaos of war. He could not escape the nagging of all the thoughts he prayed to forget. Tarnished he felt, guilty, burdened, he felt far from a hero. Though each friend, each member of his family embraced him as one.
And on each night of his return, he sat at that foot o…
A Boy and A War
The train had just left the station, his thoughts creep with nostalgia as he watches is home fade into the horizon. His chest holds a nervous wreck, only seventeen and knows nothing beyond his home. He wears an old green t-shirt with red lettering that reads, The Red Menace is real.
His hair short, cut in the manner of a well respected boy. His eyes glitter with sadness as he has to leave everything behind. He knew this day would come but he wasn't ready, he had just graduated high school and was ready for adventure.
But now, he is well pressed into the chaos of the world. About to be armed in the fighting against a world enemy. For months he had heard the stories and updates of the war on the nightly radio. But it was all too surreal that he will now be part of such stories.
He can still hear the radio announcer speaking of the enemy bombarding the world as if to rid it of cancer. As the train moves further from his home he can still feel the tears of his mother…
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…