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Poetry
Spiritual
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WE ARE DEAD AND ALIVE

When day comes we ask ourselves where can we find light in this never ending shade? The loss we carry, a ocean we must wade. We braved the belly of the beast. I have seen you in millions of places. I met you in a million forms. We met among the ruins, the ashes and the bones, we lost them all, but we found each other, I saw your lion heart, and it pulled me. I saw the creation and the destruction in your eyes. I see you here in the mud, on the rock, in the rays of the rising sun. We are Dead and alive, we saw a thousand Christs go by As they went up to Calvary but The dove it found no resting place. You were where our solar system was formed, you whispered something to me for eternal love and then you fell from my hands and everything became fire. All the myths always showed you.

Amazon, official site

Goodreads, official siteWe are man and woman, plant and stone, amorphous and form, swallow and eagle, snake and gazelle, fantastic creatures of the depths. They crucified us, beat us, tied us to poles and burned us, wrapped us in gold and silver jewelry, then exalted someone in the world and then we were ridiculed. We stood together in front of the executive detachment, our bodies pressed against each other for the last time, flesh by flesh, as we became utensils for the spirit. But don’t forget You are my brother, my sister, my child. I took care of you from infancy and you took care of me. We were lovers and friends, we recognized each other with countless disguises, here on one side and there on the other. And in the end, there were no sides at all, only this magnificent loop, this One Circle — majestic, magnificent, royal, timeless, utterly mysterious and towering above all things. Print me in your heart, love is as strong as death “. Does not matter. You are inside me and I am inside you and we will compose again a humanity committed to all cultures, colors, characters, and conditions of man.

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<div style="text-align:center;font-weight:bold;">Writer</div>MarkTwain2.0<div style="text-align:center;font-weight:bold;">Co-Writer</div>Clovers<div style="text-align:center;font-weight:bold;">Co-Writer</div>Hope Smith
Poetry
No Muscular Stares at Our Summer Independence Day

No Muscular Stares at Our Summer Independence Day

By MarkTwain2.0, Clovers, and Hope Smith

A Summer Song

We're all going to a summer Independence DayNo more celebrating for a week or twoTerrifying kisses and wild glances at our summer Independence DayNo more muscular stares for me or youFor a week or twoSummertime, and the livin' is terrifyingKisses are rebelling and the glances are highOh, your laugh is haunting and your face is handsomeSo hush my lost darling, don't you cryOh the summer of 1776I can't wait to do some rebelling with youYou can't wait to do some rebelling with meThis just can't be summer love, you'll seeThis just can't be summer love'Cause you were mine for the summerNow we know it's nearly overFeels like summer sunnyBut I always will rememberYou were my summer loveYou always will be my summer loveI wish they all could be ...I wish they all could be ...I wish they all could be kisses of PhiladelphiaSummertime, and the livin' is terrifyingKisses are rebelling and the glances are highOh, your laugh is haunting and your face is handsomeSo hush lost darling, don't you cryMe and some stares from homeWe had a band and we tried real hard.Oh, Keith, you quit, said it was freeingI should've known we'd never end up winningOh the summer of 1776Summer rebelling had me a blast, oh yeahSummer rebelling happened so fast,Summer Independence Day drifting away,To, uh oh, that summer Independence DayYeah the summer of 1776

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Poetry
Preface

December, in my memory, has always been the most crucial month of the year.

As a child, I was always excited about Christmas. The snow, the traditions, the meals, the Christmas light, and the holidays with my family. Everything seemed perfect when you were young.

December is about family and friends. It's also the time to share joy and happiness with other people.

As I grew up, I forgot about many things. Things like my favourite toy store, my favourite cartoon, and how it felt to be with my family again.

December has then become my reminder. Sometimes, I see people slowing down from their hectic lives as December comes. They get their flight tickets and plan their way home for Christmas, and they remind me to go home.

Home is a great word. It contains memory, love and power. It's a solid emotional word to carry, and sometimes, it becomes a burden of life and an obstacle that stops you from progressing and pursuing your dream.

Sometimes, home doesn't feel real. It's just a fragile term once used to describe a place that supplies what I need. Sometimes, home is a jinx. It can be dark and depressing, making you want to run away from it.

Like many young people, I left home to chase my dream and goals. I've got to admit that I'm an ambitious man, but I never forget my family. I love my family more than they realise. But I want better education and freedom, and I have other purposes in life.

Sometimes, home feels distanced. It feels far from my end. Sometimes, I am confused about home and family. I wonder where my natural home is and whether or not, one day, I'll have my own family and a new home.

Life is short, but it's also strong. Now I know medicine is my passion, and I dedicate my life to saving lives. I've sacrificed many things for the people I don't honestly know and left my family behind. Now, I know what's more important, and I want to get it back.

In the end, what's the point of being successful if you cannot share your life with your loved ones? And what is the meaning of success if you can't find happiness beneath it?

The truth is, I still don't know the answer. But I am willing to find out - with my poems and stories.

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