Micah Park Biffle

An Ignorance of Two  The water is as still as ice and gleams with a pearl blue as quiet ripples orchestrate off the small boat. Both passengers, Edgar and Rye look to each other for reassurance. They have been traveling for three months, over coming treacherous storms, facing monstrous beasts, and thwarting the illusionists of magic. They are exhausted beyond belief, they have very little rations and are running low on water as well. They look toward the path of their boat, but dense fog hugs the brisk air. Looking out into the unpredictable path, Edgar places down his paddle and moves behind Rye and reaches into his bag and pulls out a small old brass telescope. He expands it and places it to his right eye. Rye picks up the other paddle and continues to stroke. An eerie silence fills the air, all that can be heard is the paddles splashing against the water. As they slowly coast through the still enchantment, a sudden look of surprise spreads across Edgar's face. He remov

Cradle This  Cradle this, What ever it may be to you, hold it. Let its fire rise like the flames of a burning forest. Allow new sediment to settle. To bring new life from the old and propel the dead from the soil. Allow new leaves to breathe and roots to sprout new roses. Let the petals expand into an expanse of endless thought. Where journeys are bountiful and all is encouraged in growth. Being not tempted by the swaying tentacles of the damned. As they are portrayed in the depths of sea by delicate light. Many are driven to their luxurious beauty. Only to find themselves bound to their poison, falling ill in spirit. Calling out woes at the most minuscule of disruption. What ever this may be to you, embrace it. Let yourself dance in its glory, for it is a miracle. For too often we are seamlessly pursuing the perversion of what lies at our feet. Turning our heads to the immediate, while flowers reach out to the far. Stretching to what they shall never have, only to fee