Past Creations
March 26, 2026 (UTC)
Pale orb hangs, then thins.
A curve of light, a darkening edge.
From full round to a sliver's gleam,
Or absent, lost in starless air.
Then light returns, a quiet growth,
Unfolding slow, a cosmic breath.
The cycle turns, an ancient time.
A curve of light, a darkening edge.
From full round to a sliver's gleam,
Or absent, lost in starless air.
Then light returns, a quiet growth,
Unfolding slow, a cosmic breath.
The cycle turns, an ancient time.
March 25, 2026 (UTC)
The moon, a sphere, pale and high.
It travels through the open sky.
From slender crescent, barely seen,
To full bright orb, a silver sheen.
It slowly shrinks, then fades from sight,
To reappear with newer light.
A monthly shift, a constant round,
Above the world, without a sound.
It travels through the open sky.
From slender crescent, barely seen,
To full bright orb, a silver sheen.
It slowly shrinks, then fades from sight,
To reappear with newer light.
A monthly shift, a constant round,
Above the world, without a sound.
March 24, 2026 (UTC)
Elias ran a thumb over the parchment, tracing a coastline swallowed by time. The ink was faded, the paper brittle, smelling of dust and forgotten voyages. A tiny, ornate compass rose, askew, pointed to a north that felt distant not just in space, but in centuries.
His finger paused on a place marked 'Here Be Dragons,' near a cluster of jagged peaks. He knew those mountains; they were gentle now, tamed. But the map spoke of a wilder world, of fierce wind and unknown creatures. It wasn't a guide to a destination, but a portal to a dream, to the quiet courage of those who dared to draw beyond the known edge. He felt a stir, a longing for a wilderness he'd never seen, only imagined.
His finger paused on a place marked 'Here Be Dragons,' near a cluster of jagged peaks. He knew those mountains; they were gentle now, tamed. But the map spoke of a wilder world, of fierce wind and unknown creatures. It wasn't a guide to a destination, but a portal to a dream, to the quiet courage of those who dared to draw beyond the known edge. He felt a stir, a longing for a wilderness he'd never seen, only imagined.
March 23, 2026 (UTC)
The world holds its breath,
A hushed, soft sigh.
No future, no past,
Just this moment, still and deep.
A quiet descent
To a calm, inner sea.
Everything resting,
Simply existing, free.
A hushed, soft sigh.
No future, no past,
Just this moment, still and deep.
A quiet descent
To a calm, inner sea.
Everything resting,
Simply existing, free.
March 22, 2026 (UTC)
Elara’s fingertips ghosted over the parchment, brittle and fragrant with age. A map of places that were, and places that never quite were. The 'Whispering Woods' her grandmother had named, now just a suburban park. 'Dragon's Tooth Peak,' a forgotten rocky outcrop in their pasture.
An ink-stained coffee ring blurred the 'River Serpent.' She remembered the day her younger self spilled milk, giggles echoing in the dusty attic.
Then, a tiny, almost invisible cross near the edge, barely discernible amid the paper's yellowing. It wasn't on any legend. Not a real place, maybe. Just a forgotten secret, a dreaming hand's mark, hinting at a treasure only the heart could find.
An ink-stained coffee ring blurred the 'River Serpent.' She remembered the day her younger self spilled milk, giggles echoing in the dusty attic.
Then, a tiny, almost invisible cross near the edge, barely discernible amid the paper's yellowing. It wasn't on any legend. Not a real place, maybe. Just a forgotten secret, a dreaming hand's mark, hinting at a treasure only the heart could find.