Prompt: It's a big world out there
TOPIC | [WINDDOM] Mistral March • [CLOSED]
[center][color=teal]So I loved this challenge and dived right into it.
But before I could finish real life happened...
So after a sad day...
I have the outline done.
Here is [url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=53714851]Addeva[/url] in the style of Alphonse Mucha
[img]https://i.imgur.com/pjyBlgd.png[/img][/center]
[size=0][color=teal]I do plan on finishing it.
So I loved this challenge and dived right into it.
But before I could finish real life happened...
So after a sad day...
I have the outline done.
Here is Addeva in the style of Alphonse Mucha
But before I could finish real life happened...
So after a sad day...
I have the outline done.
Here is Addeva in the style of Alphonse Mucha
I do plan on finishing it.
[img]https://i.imgur.com/48JVNb3.png[/img]
It was pretty fun to do, though the colors are a bit flat, the anatomy also looks decent this time which is nice.
It was pretty fun to do, though the colors are a bit flat, the anatomy also looks decent this time which is nice.
@Critique
the art for the thread (i.e. the Windsinger ginjinka and the badges) was done by HermaMora! PunchingSolas writes the lore and code.
the art for the thread (i.e. the Windsinger ginjinka and the badges) was done by HermaMora! PunchingSolas writes the lore and code.
@Critique
the art for the thread (i.e. the Windsinger ginjinka and the badges) was done by HermaMora! PunchingSolas writes the lore and code.
the art for the thread (i.e. the Windsinger ginjinka and the badges) was done by HermaMora! PunchingSolas writes the lore and code.
[center][img]https://image.ibb.co/k4t3py/fancy-wind-v2.png[/img][/center]
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[center][size=1]@Selah @Argante @Pac1fity @PunchingSolas @MythicalViper @MasqD @Taytenn @LavenderAmethyst @ladylilitu @Arinyl @bogbees @Joywing @cloudydawn @BetaOrionis @Mewru @crowvidae @charredh @shinrinyoku @Cerastium @trashsiren @Welgan @TheOtherKirby @Katsuji @TransientDays @Lallie @Shariza @PikaLink @Zephyrwing @Storygeek @MistyGold @sockmonkeygerald @Luciferr @Sinjin @ffloof @Trilonyte @wellykang @Shrapnarl @Kaivyrin @SkyfireArts @Zulaya @Hemmalaya @horocol @Acopytopy @shoydragon @Crystalinastar @Deladria @dd2900 @ProbablyLying @Qumack @Gathouria @Catgoat @napstabl00k @Mirrorlight @mothscale @Ebby172 @Rivertyl @Cates @Lyudmila @reilon @Andraya @Wolfstarblade @toadie @lyricalmyxteries @SterlingStars @Bananyan @GuardianDragonak @Giu @Ske1th @ProdigalSunlight @Marilith @Joule @Freybugg @Critique[/size][/center]
[columns][img]http://40.media.tumblr.com/8d2f2365c3327ab50c180027952d1042/tumblr_nti067xMTN1repldoo10_250.png[/img][nextcol][center][color=#7EB269][font=sylfaen][size=5]The new week begins, and with it the Mistral Jamboree is upon Sornieth. The Windsinger hides himself among the breeze to watch the revellers in their contentedness. Kites soar high overhead and songs are sung in-between bouts of joyous laughter. The Windsinger beams with delight, though hidden he observes with nothing but pride for his children.[/center][/size][/font][/color][nextcol][img]http://40.media.tumblr.com/8d2f2365c3327ab50c180027952d1042/tumblr_nti067xMTN1repldoo10_250.png[/img][/columns]
[center][color=#7EB269][font=sylfaen][size=7]Gallery Showcase & Raffle Winners[/size][/font][/color][/center]
[img]https://i.ibb.co/TMS9nph/wind-dad-small-2.png[/img]
[img]https://i.ibb.co/JRzkdDH/speech-bubble-bottom.png[/img]
[center][color=#7EB269][font=sylfaen][size=5]“It is here at last! Oho, I have been long in wait for today! How excited I am to witness all of the festivities! Do bring me a few trinkets if you have the time, I want to see kites and vases and such other wonderful things! Forgive my excitement, but I cannot begin to contain my gladness! Oh, but we have announcements to make! As for our raffle winner, congratulations, @Welgan ! Please let one of my helpers know you are happy to accept this prize! If no word is heard from you after 24 hours, a new name will be drawn! For our new Gallery feature, warm and windy congratulations to @Acopytopy @Rivertyl @horocol @L1BR4 @AetherDragon @Andraya @MapleMatcha @DatMoonGamer @MythicalViper @ladylilitu @cloudydawn and @Joywing ! Your work has been selected to be hung in this week’s gallery! No doubt I will be lingering to peruse them, ha! And for one last surprise, your new badge is here for you to don proudly for your participation!”[/size][/font][/color][/center]
[center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2825887][img]https://i.ibb.co/mGhZfxh/week-4-150.png[/img][/url][/center]
[code][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2825887][img]https://i.ibb.co/mGhZfxh/week-4-150.png[/img][/url][/code]
[center][size=1][url=https://i.ibb.co/LdyNF9N/week-4-100.png]100x100[/url] | [url=https://i.ibb.co/mGhZfxh/week-4-150.png]150x150[/url] | [url=https://i.ibb.co/6FhT41f/week-4-250.png]250x250[/url] | [url=https://i.ibb.co/kh405rz/week-4-500.png]500x500[/url]
[columns][img]https://i.ibb.co/vdJLrCg/talking-dad-left-2.png[/img][nextcol][color=#7EB269][font=sylfaen][size=5]”And now, onto today’s prompts, shall we?”[/size][/font][/color][/center][/columns]
[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/KwyznGm/divider-without-glow.png[/img][/center]
[color=#7EB269][font=sylfaen][size=7]Today’s Prompt:[/size][/font][/color]
[center][color=#7EB269][font=sylfaen][size=5][b]Like A Mirror[/b]
[b]ART PROMPT[/b]: Take any image you like of a landscape and try to create a character or scenery from it!
[b]WRITING PROMPT[/b]: Write something from the perspective of an inanimate object!
[center][img]https://image.ibb.co/k4t3py/fancy-wind-v2.png[/img][/center]
@Selah @Argante @Pac1fity @PunchingSolas @MythicalViper @MasqD @Taytenn @LavenderAmethyst @ladylilitu @Arinyl @bogbees @Joywing @cloudydawn @BetaOrionis @Mewru @crowvidae @charredh @shinrinyoku @Cerastium @trashsiren @Welgan @TheOtherKirby @Katsuji @TransientDays @Lallie @Shariza @PikaLink @Zephyrwing @Storygeek @MistyGold @sockmonkeygerald @Luciferr @Sinjin @ffloof @Trilonyte @wellykang @Shrapnarl @Kaivyrin @SkyfireArts @Zulaya @Hemmalaya @horocol @Acopytopy @shoydragon @Crystalinastar @Deladria @dd2900 @ProbablyLying @Qumack @Gathouria @Catgoat @napstabl00k @Mirrorlight @mothscale @Ebby172 @Rivertyl @Cates @Lyudmila @reilon @Andraya @Wolfstarblade @toadie @lyricalmyxteries @SterlingStars @Bananyan @GuardianDragonak @Giu @Ske1th @ProdigalSunlight @Marilith @Joule @Freybugg @Critique
The new week begins, and with it the Mistral Jamboree is upon Sornieth. The Windsinger hides himself among the breeze to watch the revellers in their contentedness. Kites soar high overhead and songs are sung in-between bouts of joyous laughter. The Windsinger beams with delight, though hidden he observes with nothing but pride for his children.
|
Gallery Showcase & Raffle Winners
“It is here at last! Oho, I have been long in wait for today! How excited I am to witness all of the festivities! Do bring me a few trinkets if you have the time, I want to see kites and vases and such other wonderful things! Forgive my excitement, but I cannot begin to contain my gladness! Oh, but we have announcements to make! As for our raffle winner, congratulations, @Welgan ! Please let one of my helpers know you are happy to accept this prize! If no word is heard from you after 24 hours, a new name will be drawn! For our new Gallery feature, warm and windy congratulations to @Acopytopy @Rivertyl @horocol @L1BR4 @AetherDragon @Andraya @MapleMatcha @DatMoonGamer @MythicalViper @ladylilitu @cloudydawn and @Joywing ! Your work has been selected to be hung in this week’s gallery! No doubt I will be lingering to peruse them, ha! And for one last surprise, your new badge is here for you to don proudly for your participation!”
Code:
[url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2825887][img]https://i.ibb.co/mGhZfxh/week-4-150.png[/img][/url]
Today’s Prompt:
Like A Mirror
ART PROMPT: Take any image you like of a landscape and try to create a character or scenery from it!
WRITING PROMPT: Write something from the perspective of an inanimate object!
ART PROMPT: Take any image you like of a landscape and try to create a character or scenery from it!
WRITING PROMPT: Write something from the perspective of an inanimate object!
@HermaMora
[emoji=tundra scared size=2]
I would be very happy to receive that prize ! this had been a crazy week with not that many art time for me, but hopefully I would have more time to update here this week c: You've done an amazing job with these prompts and I really regret the situation in my country made it more difficult for me to taketime to art !
@HermaMora
I would be very happy to receive that prize ! this had been a crazy week with not that many art time for me, but hopefully I would have more time to update here this week c: You've done an amazing job with these prompts and I really regret the situation in my country made it more difficult for me to taketime to art !
I would be very happy to receive that prize ! this had been a crazy week with not that many art time for me, but hopefully I would have more time to update here this week c: You've done an amazing job with these prompts and I really regret the situation in my country made it more difficult for me to taketime to art !
Visit us at Ogrenat clan, we have mages and airships !
Welgan Ae / They FR+9 (French) |
Congrats to the winner and happy Mistral Jamboree!
For today's prompt I took the wikipedia's image of Lake Tahoe and gave it some other-worldly colors.
[img]https://i.imgur.com/l3zVjdM.png[/img]
Happy Mistjam all! <3 Had fun with today's prompt, love the idea of writing from unusual perspectives.
Protector
“This will protect you. Hold it tight, and it will guard you.” My master advised, as he passed me to a smaller version of himself. I was compact, my body squashed down to a square. The small being looked at me with wonder, grabbing my corner, and flipping me open. Deftly I sprung to my full size, my loose body flapping from his hands, air whistling through the holes of my worn body. His hands were warm to the touch, as they ran down my fur. He hugged me, and the warmth of his skin seeped into mine, a comfort I had not known for a long time. I knew not his name, but I knew my duty.
At night, when the bright eyes on the ceiling and streets had closed, I began my vigil. He held me close, my body a shield between his own, and the creeping dark. Unlike the lively chatter of the morning, the night held a tranquil silence. The pulse of his heart, and the soft in and out of his breath was the only movement in the tiny room. Still I watched, eyes on the closet door, and the void ‘neath the bed. They were inert, yet from their mystique sprung visions of horror, fanged beasts and many-eyed monstrosities. I never wavered from my watch, for it is the act of watching that allays fear, and soothes the mind. As the morning came, the ring-watch would cry, signalling the end of my shift. He would wake, and pack me away again.
His name was James. In the mornings, kneeling compact on the pillows, I had all the time to see. His room was messy, as one would expect. Posters of heroes decorating the walls, colourful figures standing watch on his desk. There was a veritable army that stood watch in the day, like I did at night. Vibrant and diverse books lined the shelves, their edges fraying from use. Though my body was cold in his absence, I was no longer frozen. I could feel the warmth, a sense of pride bubbling in my breast. I was useful once again.
As the days wound on, we would occupy that rhythm. I would watch in the night, and rest in the day. As he played and studied, I would hear bits and pieces. His affection for a girl named Amanda. Him being punished with banishment to his room, for the crime of breaking a vase. His elation at receiving a treasured book for his birthday. Even as the air picked at my skin, and my body wore down, James still kept me around. Just as he put his trust in me, I would be his faithful servant.
One day, he returned early. Shivering and pale, he embraced me, curling into a ball on his bed. His body was warm, too warm. My skin was riddled with holes, and the cold air pierced me through. Yet, I continued, hugging his body as close as I could. His mother would come, with offerings of liquid, and soft murmurings I did not understand. Seeing James, she too seemed pale, her face lined with worry.
He hardly seemed to leave me for the days that followed. He might move to retrieve a beloved tome or toy, but he would return to the place of rest. He would read me stories, to pass the hours of the long days. The story of the thousand cranes was his favourite. It told of a wish borne by determination and hope. Each one was small, too weak to do anything on their own, but together, they would grant the wish of a dying girl. His hands shook as he held the book, and the rhythm of his breath at night had become erratic and labored. I would have tried to warn of the similarities, but I had no mouth to speak. Perhaps that similarity is why it was his favourite.
I was there, when James could no longer leave. He laid there, his loose grip still holding onto me. Where I was once loose on his body, I drooped like I was made of lead. His desk was littered with paper cranes and half-written stories, dreams of the future that would never come to be. By his side were my old master, and James’ mother. They pleaded gently, for him to come back, to stay for a day longer. James, with eyes that saw everything and nothing responded simply. He knew what they did not. He closed his eyes like he normally did, cocooned in my embrace. As the world slowed to a stop, I felt warmth seep out from his bones.
Though I had no eyes, I wished to weep. Though I had naught but my own broken body, held together by seams, I would have given it for my young master. I held fast against the monsters in the closet, and the monsters in the dark, yet he had been taken by an evil I could not fight. I had failed to protect him.
I hope, at the very end, he at least knew that I loved him.
Protector
“This will protect you. Hold it tight, and it will guard you.” My master advised, as he passed me to a smaller version of himself. I was compact, my body squashed down to a square. The small being looked at me with wonder, grabbing my corner, and flipping me open. Deftly I sprung to my full size, my loose body flapping from his hands, air whistling through the holes of my worn body. His hands were warm to the touch, as they ran down my fur. He hugged me, and the warmth of his skin seeped into mine, a comfort I had not known for a long time. I knew not his name, but I knew my duty.
At night, when the bright eyes on the ceiling and streets had closed, I began my vigil. He held me close, my body a shield between his own, and the creeping dark. Unlike the lively chatter of the morning, the night held a tranquil silence. The pulse of his heart, and the soft in and out of his breath was the only movement in the tiny room. Still I watched, eyes on the closet door, and the void ‘neath the bed. They were inert, yet from their mystique sprung visions of horror, fanged beasts and many-eyed monstrosities. I never wavered from my watch, for it is the act of watching that allays fear, and soothes the mind. As the morning came, the ring-watch would cry, signalling the end of my shift. He would wake, and pack me away again.
His name was James. In the mornings, kneeling compact on the pillows, I had all the time to see. His room was messy, as one would expect. Posters of heroes decorating the walls, colourful figures standing watch on his desk. There was a veritable army that stood watch in the day, like I did at night. Vibrant and diverse books lined the shelves, their edges fraying from use. Though my body was cold in his absence, I was no longer frozen. I could feel the warmth, a sense of pride bubbling in my breast. I was useful once again.
As the days wound on, we would occupy that rhythm. I would watch in the night, and rest in the day. As he played and studied, I would hear bits and pieces. His affection for a girl named Amanda. Him being punished with banishment to his room, for the crime of breaking a vase. His elation at receiving a treasured book for his birthday. Even as the air picked at my skin, and my body wore down, James still kept me around. Just as he put his trust in me, I would be his faithful servant.
One day, he returned early. Shivering and pale, he embraced me, curling into a ball on his bed. His body was warm, too warm. My skin was riddled with holes, and the cold air pierced me through. Yet, I continued, hugging his body as close as I could. His mother would come, with offerings of liquid, and soft murmurings I did not understand. Seeing James, she too seemed pale, her face lined with worry.
He hardly seemed to leave me for the days that followed. He might move to retrieve a beloved tome or toy, but he would return to the place of rest. He would read me stories, to pass the hours of the long days. The story of the thousand cranes was his favourite. It told of a wish borne by determination and hope. Each one was small, too weak to do anything on their own, but together, they would grant the wish of a dying girl. His hands shook as he held the book, and the rhythm of his breath at night had become erratic and labored. I would have tried to warn of the similarities, but I had no mouth to speak. Perhaps that similarity is why it was his favourite.
I was there, when James could no longer leave. He laid there, his loose grip still holding onto me. Where I was once loose on his body, I drooped like I was made of lead. His desk was littered with paper cranes and half-written stories, dreams of the future that would never come to be. By his side were my old master, and James’ mother. They pleaded gently, for him to come back, to stay for a day longer. James, with eyes that saw everything and nothing responded simply. He knew what they did not. He closed his eyes like he normally did, cocooned in my embrace. As the world slowed to a stop, I felt warmth seep out from his bones.
Though I had no eyes, I wished to weep. Though I had naught but my own broken body, held together by seams, I would have given it for my young master. I held fast against the monsters in the closet, and the monsters in the dark, yet he had been taken by an evil I could not fight. I had failed to protect him.
I hope, at the very end, he at least knew that I loved him.
Happy Mistjam all! <3 Had fun with today's prompt, love the idea of writing from unusual perspectives.
Protector
“This will protect you. Hold it tight, and it will guard you.” My master advised, as he passed me to a smaller version of himself. I was compact, my body squashed down to a square. The small being looked at me with wonder, grabbing my corner, and flipping me open. Deftly I sprung to my full size, my loose body flapping from his hands, air whistling through the holes of my worn body. His hands were warm to the touch, as they ran down my fur. He hugged me, and the warmth of his skin seeped into mine, a comfort I had not known for a long time. I knew not his name, but I knew my duty.
At night, when the bright eyes on the ceiling and streets had closed, I began my vigil. He held me close, my body a shield between his own, and the creeping dark. Unlike the lively chatter of the morning, the night held a tranquil silence. The pulse of his heart, and the soft in and out of his breath was the only movement in the tiny room. Still I watched, eyes on the closet door, and the void ‘neath the bed. They were inert, yet from their mystique sprung visions of horror, fanged beasts and many-eyed monstrosities. I never wavered from my watch, for it is the act of watching that allays fear, and soothes the mind. As the morning came, the ring-watch would cry, signalling the end of my shift. He would wake, and pack me away again.
His name was James. In the mornings, kneeling compact on the pillows, I had all the time to see. His room was messy, as one would expect. Posters of heroes decorating the walls, colourful figures standing watch on his desk. There was a veritable army that stood watch in the day, like I did at night. Vibrant and diverse books lined the shelves, their edges fraying from use. Though my body was cold in his absence, I was no longer frozen. I could feel the warmth, a sense of pride bubbling in my breast. I was useful once again.
As the days wound on, we would occupy that rhythm. I would watch in the night, and rest in the day. As he played and studied, I would hear bits and pieces. His affection for a girl named Amanda. Him being punished with banishment to his room, for the crime of breaking a vase. His elation at receiving a treasured book for his birthday. Even as the air picked at my skin, and my body wore down, James still kept me around. Just as he put his trust in me, I would be his faithful servant.
One day, he returned early. Shivering and pale, he embraced me, curling into a ball on his bed. His body was warm, too warm. My skin was riddled with holes, and the cold air pierced me through. Yet, I continued, hugging his body as close as I could. His mother would come, with offerings of liquid, and soft murmurings I did not understand. Seeing James, she too seemed pale, her face lined with worry.
He hardly seemed to leave me for the days that followed. He might move to retrieve a beloved tome or toy, but he would return to the place of rest. He would read me stories, to pass the hours of the long days. The story of the thousand cranes was his favourite. It told of a wish borne by determination and hope. Each one was small, too weak to do anything on their own, but together, they would grant the wish of a dying girl. His hands shook as he held the book, and the rhythm of his breath at night had become erratic and labored. I would have tried to warn of the similarities, but I had no mouth to speak. Perhaps that similarity is why it was his favourite.
I was there, when James could no longer leave. He laid there, his loose grip still holding onto me. Where I was once loose on his body, I drooped like I was made of lead. His desk was littered with paper cranes and half-written stories, dreams of the future that would never come to be. By his side were my old master, and James’ mother. They pleaded gently, for him to come back, to stay for a day longer. James, with eyes that saw everything and nothing responded simply. He knew what they did not. He closed his eyes like he normally did, cocooned in my embrace. As the world slowed to a stop, I felt warmth seep out from his bones.
Though I had no eyes, I wished to weep. Though I had naught but my own broken body, held together by seams, I would have given it for my young master. I held fast against the monsters in the closet, and the monsters in the dark, yet he had been taken by an evil I could not fight. I had failed to protect him.
I hope, at the very end, he at least knew that I loved him.
Protector
“This will protect you. Hold it tight, and it will guard you.” My master advised, as he passed me to a smaller version of himself. I was compact, my body squashed down to a square. The small being looked at me with wonder, grabbing my corner, and flipping me open. Deftly I sprung to my full size, my loose body flapping from his hands, air whistling through the holes of my worn body. His hands were warm to the touch, as they ran down my fur. He hugged me, and the warmth of his skin seeped into mine, a comfort I had not known for a long time. I knew not his name, but I knew my duty.
At night, when the bright eyes on the ceiling and streets had closed, I began my vigil. He held me close, my body a shield between his own, and the creeping dark. Unlike the lively chatter of the morning, the night held a tranquil silence. The pulse of his heart, and the soft in and out of his breath was the only movement in the tiny room. Still I watched, eyes on the closet door, and the void ‘neath the bed. They were inert, yet from their mystique sprung visions of horror, fanged beasts and many-eyed monstrosities. I never wavered from my watch, for it is the act of watching that allays fear, and soothes the mind. As the morning came, the ring-watch would cry, signalling the end of my shift. He would wake, and pack me away again.
His name was James. In the mornings, kneeling compact on the pillows, I had all the time to see. His room was messy, as one would expect. Posters of heroes decorating the walls, colourful figures standing watch on his desk. There was a veritable army that stood watch in the day, like I did at night. Vibrant and diverse books lined the shelves, their edges fraying from use. Though my body was cold in his absence, I was no longer frozen. I could feel the warmth, a sense of pride bubbling in my breast. I was useful once again.
As the days wound on, we would occupy that rhythm. I would watch in the night, and rest in the day. As he played and studied, I would hear bits and pieces. His affection for a girl named Amanda. Him being punished with banishment to his room, for the crime of breaking a vase. His elation at receiving a treasured book for his birthday. Even as the air picked at my skin, and my body wore down, James still kept me around. Just as he put his trust in me, I would be his faithful servant.
One day, he returned early. Shivering and pale, he embraced me, curling into a ball on his bed. His body was warm, too warm. My skin was riddled with holes, and the cold air pierced me through. Yet, I continued, hugging his body as close as I could. His mother would come, with offerings of liquid, and soft murmurings I did not understand. Seeing James, she too seemed pale, her face lined with worry.
He hardly seemed to leave me for the days that followed. He might move to retrieve a beloved tome or toy, but he would return to the place of rest. He would read me stories, to pass the hours of the long days. The story of the thousand cranes was his favourite. It told of a wish borne by determination and hope. Each one was small, too weak to do anything on their own, but together, they would grant the wish of a dying girl. His hands shook as he held the book, and the rhythm of his breath at night had become erratic and labored. I would have tried to warn of the similarities, but I had no mouth to speak. Perhaps that similarity is why it was his favourite.
I was there, when James could no longer leave. He laid there, his loose grip still holding onto me. Where I was once loose on his body, I drooped like I was made of lead. His desk was littered with paper cranes and half-written stories, dreams of the future that would never come to be. By his side were my old master, and James’ mother. They pleaded gently, for him to come back, to stay for a day longer. James, with eyes that saw everything and nothing responded simply. He knew what they did not. He closed his eyes like he normally did, cocooned in my embrace. As the world slowed to a stop, I felt warmth seep out from his bones.
Though I had no eyes, I wished to weep. Though I had naught but my own broken body, held together by seams, I would have given it for my young master. I held fast against the monsters in the closet, and the monsters in the dark, yet he had been taken by an evil I could not fight. I had failed to protect him.
I hope, at the very end, he at least knew that I loved him.
Writing Prompt:
I am solid.
I am strong.
The rays of the run have fallen on me for eons, and yet I do not burn.
I remember when the world was nothing but heat, churned by forces unseen until there was cold. And stillness.
You would never think to imagine all that I have been through.
All that I have seen.
Alas, you walk right over me without hesitation.
That is okay.
I will live beyond your years, and when the last light in the heavens becomes extinguished, only then will I know peace.
I am ancient.
I am time immemorial.
I am rock.
I am solid.
I am strong.
The rays of the run have fallen on me for eons, and yet I do not burn.
I remember when the world was nothing but heat, churned by forces unseen until there was cold. And stillness.
You would never think to imagine all that I have been through.
All that I have seen.
Alas, you walk right over me without hesitation.
That is okay.
I will live beyond your years, and when the last light in the heavens becomes extinguished, only then will I know peace.
I am ancient.
I am time immemorial.
I am rock.
Writing Prompt:
I am solid.
I am strong.
The rays of the run have fallen on me for eons, and yet I do not burn.
I remember when the world was nothing but heat, churned by forces unseen until there was cold. And stillness.
You would never think to imagine all that I have been through.
All that I have seen.
Alas, you walk right over me without hesitation.
That is okay.
I will live beyond your years, and when the last light in the heavens becomes extinguished, only then will I know peace.
I am ancient.
I am time immemorial.
I am rock.
I am solid.
I am strong.
The rays of the run have fallen on me for eons, and yet I do not burn.
I remember when the world was nothing but heat, churned by forces unseen until there was cold. And stillness.
You would never think to imagine all that I have been through.
All that I have seen.
Alas, you walk right over me without hesitation.
That is okay.
I will live beyond your years, and when the last light in the heavens becomes extinguished, only then will I know peace.
I am ancient.
I am time immemorial.
I am rock.