Posted by Anonymous on 2018/05/05 under Life There once was a world, one full of people that belonged to places; a world of beauty and pain, of strength and of hope, of fear and of bias. and a girl. a girl who belonged to no place, and to no person. she was in and of herself, beauty and pain, music and stillness. weakness and bravery. You would never know the fierceness of her mind, for she had a peace that stilled the loudest of thunder, and though her lips would sometimes part, her voice was silent, and only through the storm in the color of her eyes could you see the strength of her spirit. On her side she bore the tattoo of a lion-Sad and strong, beautiful and incomplete and original. She was different, created by the maker of music and of stillness. So jealous for her was her maker, that he instilled in her an independence that could not be tamed. a raging sea in her soul that could not be staid by anything or anyone. You see, her maker ingrained in her this depth and wildness that was not of this world, but of his own heart, beating in sync with hers, loud and steady and uncontrollably beautiful.
Pulled by the beat of her makers heart beat, her steps were not like the rest. She was the song among a thousand speeches, a dance among a million marches She was the songs of her maker pulling in anyone who dared to listen. She was his instrument, and he was her crafter.
Stolen from her maker, she was passed form place to person, person to place, fighting for a place to belong to, a song she could contribute to. But thats a funny thing about songs, you can’t take two songs and make them one without losing the identity of both the songs. She was like that, and so strong was her spirit, instilled in her by her maker only to match his own, that though she so desperately tried, she could not become someone else’s song. It was only when the crafter played his instrument that her song would play, and the chaos inside her would align with the power inside him, to create something not of this world, something beautiful.