Micah Park Biffle

A Weary Traveler and their Words    Where to travel with this weary heart? I take up my art of broken dreams the seamless lines of darkness crowding my vision into blankness. A shroud of shadows singing so proud the hallows of the empty hollow halls. The void of my heart, tearing the delicate parts.  Where to take this lonely heart? The mountains are cold, the valleys are low and my heart is even deeper. Sinking further into the distance, a star fading to existence as wolves prowl between the howls of the wind. A sin I live in, a torment of grief, of cascading pleads.  Hands bleed as a I hold this ax, cutting down trees. Making a home that shall fit me. But alone it is difficult and in time gives no residual. And alone these eyes see two perspectives. Two objectives of my miserable perception.  Joyful and dark, each with their own end, their own start. A stark terror of fear, rejection of joy, of a happy poise. As whispers of hopeful ploys, ladled i...

 Sophia's Love    "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 clo...

A Desert Wanderer  This desert, a paradise of the lost. A visual spectacle, a mind bending stage for the brilliant, the madness of the mind. Wandering with aimless hope as the chest dries of breath and lips crust with desert wind.   How strange this place be. A bland wonder of the earth where few live. Eyes looking onward to the dusting horizon as the sun sinks behind mounds of turbulent sand. Looking, with wild eyes as creatures of familiarity parade toward this frail conception of life. Yet they be foreign, exotic though they be of the familiar, I swear. Yet awkward form falls from them.   Long legs, like a spider, but only four. A snout to smell and large extended ears to hear. Protecting the canals from the storms of the desert. So high, with tusks that curve with polished ivory. Skin of leather hide with prickles of hair, like nettles.   But their legs, how odd, how wondrous, a magic trick maybe.....of the mind. For they never end, but only begin. A...

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...