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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Lies Blew up Our Planet
Lies Blew up Our Planet
I watched as it all erupted like clay tossed against stone. Piece by piece, the world was flung into the far reaches of space. My capsule was one of the last to have launched. I was only eight at the time. But I will never forget the feeling. Though I was young to the world and had a very short time; of even a morsel of what the world truly was.
It felt as if a part of me had been ripped from my chest. I can still remember the colors that world presented us. It was a bold array of showered hues. Even in the most harsh of environments you could find something to awe the eyes and heart.
All those shows on TV that explored the world and brought it to our living rooms was astounding. So much to be seen and so little time to enjoy it. Sadly, my time was much shorter than many thanks to ever greedy needs of those who wished us no ability to advance.
We were sunk back to almost the 21st century.
I remember all the commercials and news that would speak poorly of our existence, rather than find solutions. They thought us better off, than with the planet. Even at my young age I found it odd that there were those who wished us dead. To just hand the world over to the creatures that are spoken of as things of pure innocence.
It became a world comprised of endless need to please that which can give nothing back to us. To please things that give no more care for their own than us. It was disgusting times and now, they are even worse or, rather the same.
I remember as I watched the world explode into a million shards from our capsule window from five hundred miles away as my mother pulled me from the winodow, she said, "Don't look dear, we did not deserve it in the first place."
Right there, in that moment, what she said, drew a strange thought in my head. One I could not comprehend at the time. But now I can, "We should give the world to those creatures that can bring no change, but now we care not that the world is gone and those creatures with it?"
It was an instant one-eighty, I realized that a majority of the people from that world, were more concerned about appearances of their thoughts than their words, their actions.
As the capsule flew further and further away and as my mother pulled me further from the window. I cried, but I cried silently. For there were things I would never experience nor understand about how we got where we are now.
For much of the information that could have saved our world. Was lost in a flood, a flood we had known was coming for a month. But again, the need for appearances over truth was more important. I can't begin to explain what I am learning now.
I work at the prison now on our new planet. I guard the most "ruthless" people the world had ever known. People that grew up on our planet before it blew up. We call them, "The Interference." When I first started working here, I had great resentment toward these people.
We were told they were the reason we fell behind, that they were the reason we are where we are now. That their hate drove us to our own extinction from the planet. But every time I asked exactly what they did, I was quickly pelted with singular words and vague answers.
But the longer I work here, the more I learn about what truly happened. Each of these prisoners has a story, some even have files hidden in their chambers. How they got them there, I do not know? I am just a new guy still. Only six months in and we only get new recruits once a year, that's if there is room for new recruits.
But as I dig deeper and deeper into how we are formed now. The more I see our move from the gorgeous world that we had before. To this massive dismal, barely habitable planet. I see it was an endless game of fraudulent exploitation of the worlds own people and of those that truly wanted to help.
It was a finite game of lies which still continues, and death is the penalty for exposing any lies of ruling.
If we do leave our planet, where do you think we will end up and why?
"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…