andythechinchilla

Crisp pure buffeting wind That pummels your face Leaning towards insistent Till forcing eyes open Face contorted in cold atoms Yet pushing on resistant To the change life brings In supporting and holding back Guiding in the right direction Understanding why This path is not for you Correcting your inflection To face the wind’s pressure Move with it or push against To fill your sails with its force Feel its power coursing through Mind focused and heart set Racing to meet love’s source.

Oh I wear my heart proud And my voice, it shouts loud, To the girl who called to me And set hearts life free. She took me by the hand So to walk all across the land, To see mountains capped with white And a sun that burned so bright. Sunlight dripping in gold And what you said to me, so bold, Was the warmth to awaken my heart Piercing arrow, yet small as a dart. Ignited powder to make me think Step to the edge, right to the brink, Dive down speeding faster than light Crashing in waves, hidden out of sight. This world I see it now with open eyes And look to you, answering a thousand why’s, Yet nothing in this world, can compare To wh

What you were feeling Drag your head out the clouds, Face the problem, The answer's there to be found, Oppression of your own closed mind, Letting it grind you to the ground. Free those thoughts of freedom, They're yours to keep, Your mind is your clay kingdom, Mould it to your features, Your own private rebellion. Those feelings won't go away, So hear the message, Feel the movement and sway, As you feel fire, Turning to colours out of the grey. You have it now sitting in your chest, The burning feeling, As you shout and raise your crest, It flows in then straight out, That sense that you are, the best of the best.

Everyone has a form of art, whether its painted imagery, sculpture or written art, it's dependent on each person. The most powerful inspiration for art being loving someone. Evoke Like a wave that hits rock and sprays up in a white halo of water, Or the first rays of sunshine blazing off the frosty mountain peaks, But as quiet as the mouse that slowly wakes to dawns light, Yet as strong as the oxen who plough the fields for all day long. A stray strand of hair fell, across her eyes and cast the spell Upon my mind, that evoked these sights so highly regarded. I saw them as nothing but material, compared to a glimpse of her. She who could hol