The clothes of last season cling loosely on him; Faded jeans and an oversize T-shirt. His pale visage, white like snow. The windows to the soul, Gray, bleak, dull.
The fairground gates creak an ominous low. His tiny little hands cringle At the cold, unfeeling metal.
Winged, yet unable to fly. Stuck on this dammed earth. Crying, alone.
A relic of the summer, Lies alone in the field. Like some sad irony, A merry-go-round, Frozen in ice and time.
He steadily, quietly, creeps up, As though terrified of interfering the tranquility in the scene. Slowly, he climbs on. Seemingly immune to the cold, He rides the horse gaily. Freed of the bondage, he rose away, His agonies His pains. Gone. Time came to a halt. The boy is encased in a world of his own. A world without the gripping pain of hunger, Without the snide snickers of his peers at his complexion, Without the drunken father flinging his tiny body against the ground, Without the red-eyed mother, pearls streaming down her face.
On and on he rode, Oblivious to his surroundings, He imagines, a sanctuary of his own. The caring families with their children here during the summer, Replays like an old film over and over in his head. He opens his mouth, like the happy children he had seen, Devouring the popcorn the mother has brought back. His wings soon tire, yet he flew on and on. Not knowing when to stop, Not knowing why he should stop. Not knowing anything, he flew with all his might. Through the night he rode on the winged horse. He visited the entire globe, Seen the sights of the 7 wonders, Eaten the best cuisine in the 4 corners of the world.
When they found him at dawn, His tired little body lay motionless on the magnificent winged horse, Cold like the snow that had fallen about him. And in the white divine, he left a scrawl” "So, just one more time I'll spread my tattered wings and try to Fly”
recorded on 5/29/2007 09:55:00 PM
2007/05/21
Why does it take the experience with life and death for people to learn? Why do we always assume that we are smarter than our predecessors? Haven't we learnt something from their pitfalls?
We may have evolved. May. And even in that, we question to what extent? To become smarter or more stupid?
It always takes pain for one to realize. Questions. Cries.Lives.Dies.
recorded on 5/21/2007 09:30:00 PM
2007/05/20
Cry of the Night
Have you heard the sound? The desperate pleading voice? In that far recesses of your heart?
To have the will to do what is right, Bearing all the consquences and pain, That will never fade away.
Should this pain be worth the while, But people forget.
They forget the pain you have gone through. We are self-centred. Inevidentable fact.
Love.Hate.Strength.Weakness. Oxymorons and paradoxes in their own rights. One can never be seen without the other.
The tone is now condesending, You can almost see her on her knees, Begging.For the right thing to be done.
I walk over, and help her up. But at that same time, As I tried to embrace virtue, I have lost it all.
-ashhao
recorded on 5/20/2007 09:33:00 PM
2007/05/06
The victory of mankind was not won overnight, but through the many trials and tribulations that we have endured. The problems that we face now are man-made, and therefore can be solved by man. We shall stand together as comrades and face this mysterious entity, and solve it by whatever means possible.
We will triumph.
recorded on 5/06/2007 01:24:00 AM
warrior
Wan Zhong Hao aka ashhao
Current affilated to: IJC 0641B (Council)
Was: ATS '01/CHS '05
abilites
literature & drama
geo.
blades
knowledge
peace
love
armor
blue & black
cry
If there was any ability,
that could bring you back to me
I would gladly give up all my powers
for that one moment with you again.
values
Honor
Honesty
Intergrity
Chivarly
unlimited blade works
one of the most powerful form of magic,
caster creates a world entirely out of his imagination,
and has endless power over this realm he creates. also
labelled as sword's graveyard, for the amazing amount of blades
stored here.
