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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A Genius of Now
A Genius of Now
He's a genius they say, for he invents, pushes and aims to change the world. To give the average the ability to touch the stars. To see our planet from the cusp of existence. How strange, how amazing, how bold this world has become.
We flourish with ideas, exchange them with one another around the world in an instant. Minds of overwhelming creativity burst into the spotlight, only if they are so daring to do so; as is the genius I speak of.
He has brought electricity to our feet, thrusting individuals through the streets. He has scrapped the skies with science, with rockets of mechanic brilliance. Stretching science to a new weave of design. For long we were limited in the world by the hands of our government.
Only the agencies, foreign and domestic of this dazzling planet were awarded the limitless endeavor of exploration. But now, a man of intrinsic and thought defying vision, has torn down such wall. He has given back the independence of expedition. He has brought the world what only the many have dreamed of.
Now, we are in the reaches of mass exploration. To fly to sites only a special select have seen and driving us to a new view of what could be.
I only hope, in his wild and beautiful venture, he does not fall to the all to easy words of the powerful, the corrupt. For too often great men become the vessel of the greedy. Expunging the exuberance of man for malcontent taste of power.
For the door that has been unlocked, is a door that can never be shut. It brings new stories, new light, new hope for new advancements. I hope that what change he brings, will bring light to the shadows that be.
The hidden gems we are not told of. The cures brought by new inventions, new materials, new ideas. We are amazing creatures, for only we can be as what we want, and do as we please. We are gifted to with the ability and opportunity to bring our dreams to reality.
But we must be brave, persistent and willing to fall. As has this man, and who this man is, I shall not say, for truly it does not matter; though you may already know. For a name is but a word, and what truly brings meaning to a name, is not the words it speaks, nor the words it writes, but the actions at which the beholder of a names takes.
Who do you think I am talking about and what do I mean in all this?
"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…