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the7cyns
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Name: the7cyns
Interests: if you have the time to be curious enough to visit me, spend enough time to step away from reality and read a bit. please comment. criticism welcome, compliments more so
Message: message me AIM: cynsforall
Member Since:
5/3/2007
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| shall our worlds ever become one?
no more secrets held from those in our lives or from ourselves? no more sleepless nights or tears as our paths carry us apart?
closed doors opened at last to each other to hold you in my arms while standing among kindred spirits and kin without fear of discovery to sit beside the fire and share time with those who have only been names for so long to walk a path together you have walked alone
i long for that day
to lie alone in wonder as the moon makes her journey into dawn and the taste of your kiss swiftly fading is torment in its purest and coldest form
lover, let us replace torment with paradise let those in our separate worlds dwell in curiosity as we walk the night as one
let me take from them that which i so desire i would embrace their precious treasure which is you before them those eyes that find me alone day after day finding something new finding us
my majestic muse, allow me the honor of one world together
there is but one dawn for each day let us share them all
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| my muse dances again
she is not the fea, though she wears wings of gossamer to carry her among the branches throughout my grove she is not the dancer i have dreamed her of being, though her enchantments dominate my soul time and time again.
as a gypsy she is unchallenged as a muse she is unmatched as a lover she is unchained
she dances on the edge of oblivion, tempting a fate of her own design. closer and closer to the boundries of my existence she spins, daring my unmoving soul to follow, fully knowing that as stone i cannot this path is hers and hers alone to walk with each note of her song, with every move, she moves ever closer to a reality without stone
she is neither of this world or the one beyond
her joy is a sunbeam her rage a tempest her kiss fills my grove with vibrant colors her love escapes words
she rides the winds of an autumn breeze high above me. her dance is as erratic and spontaneous as a child's delight. never allowing herself to touch ground or green for longer than a heartbeat, never allowing her flight to bring her any closer to my soul which she has ever been a part of
her dance takes her to the brink of nonexistence and draws her near enough to me to feel the heat of her breath. the wind from her wings take the dust from my form and her love carves me free the light of her eyes begin to reveal me for what i am amethyst purifies my awareness while iolite lights my mind's eye alexandrite gives voice to my dreams as the Apache's tears keep my thoughts from wandering and jade binds soul to grove
is it i that is ethereal and untouchable or is it reality that is but a phantom
my muse returns and i will be free
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| i guess you remembered why you turned away
so many soft words spoken in the dark turn to forgotten memories as dawn breaks
promises lasting only as long as i hold you close
i no longer want to be that secret you fear being discovered
i no longer desire to stand outside of your realm, awaiting the shortest of moments in which you may cast your eyes my direction
i long to hold you throughout the night, keeping you safe from foul wishes and nightmares, keeping you warm as we lie flesh against flesh, satisfying any and all of your carnal desires and most innocent needs
it is wrong what you have done to my soul, the enchantments i feel when your song is heard in the night, beckoning that i shall dreamwalk beside you among the mysts hand in hand.
twice bitten but no more
stand beside me or fade to black, my muse. i tire of the game that has just begun anew and i will not be cast aside at your whim.
i am not the fool you take me for, though the stars in my eyes may make me a liar
i know of your sins and trespasses. i know of the tome of lies you have penned. i know that i would be a fool to return for one more kiss
i am flesh again as the autumn breeze invades my once beautiful grove
i will return to stone when the time is nigh
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| the chaos of an autumn breeze has enchanted my soul once again the heat of an once extinguished flame burns brightly within my heart and tempers my cold soul thought once to be stone, again i silently weep at the sound of her song this is not the fea, but a life stirring wind that fill my mind the sensation of scars from so many past tears tell me what path to avoid, yet once beckoned, i feel compelled to follow the sound of her song dances behind my minds eye and causes me to dream the improbabilities, leading me to a certain chaotic ending, yet with a whisper, the taste of her kiss is upon my lips should i follow her into her realm, i should surely perish, yet her warmth is what has driven my dreams for so long and is dearly missed, as is a the morning dew to a sun beaten blossem knowing that those who call my grove their home may recognize the song of this gypsy, i cast aside my cautions and leave the comfort of my grove. i may return it anguish to become the stone much sooner than i anticipate, bearing scars from many fresh tears, but i shall return wearing them for all to see, exposing my sins and crimes for all to see. at this point, all will be known to those who are aware the song of my autumn breeze beckons me, my friends and lovers, and i am driven to follow her to whatever ending she may lead me. if only to light a once dimmed candle | | |
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dust and cobwebs litter my corner. my quill, cold and forgotten, lays beside countless sheets of parchment documenting countless unfinished and uninspired dreams and illusions. the cold season returns, marking the turn of the seasons since i last called this chamber home, since i last shared passions and fantasies with those outside. my eyes have been turned elsewhere, chasing memories of a guiding hand and the forgotten voice of a muse. a secret sadness calls out to me from the shadows beyond my closed eyes. her whisper so very faint and delicate as to be a note on the chill wind blowing throughout my mind and casting the webs from the quill. her voice offers a simple advice
light a candle, there is much to see
something so simple
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what follows is a past passage and a message i had sent to a young soul who has in turn reminded me that there is so much inspiration surrounding us at any given moment. so much beauty and sadness, passion and fantasy, if you only opened your eyes and your mind. my sight has been focused for the past year upon 2 realities, and in that i have let so much pass by without even a glance. thank you, sadness. the candle is lit
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January 21, 2009 “yes, love, it is possible to reach a caffeine 'overdose', but sadly all it does is create confusion and tremors and it preys upon your most silent paranoia’s. what you have mentioned above, on writing for yourself and none other, is deliciously true. putting your pain and dreams into words should be done to satisfy yourself and no one else. if, by chance, someone were to find something useful or true hidden in what you have offered you should consider their appreciation applause, a gift from a kindred spirit, and a completely random act of kindness. what you put into words should first and foremost please yourself and not the masses. love, there is inspiration everywhere, though it may not shine as brightly as one may wish. you have asked of me my muse, the 'she' i chase throughout my writings. she is a forbidden muse, an untouchable paradise, though i have no doubts that she knows who she is. she has inspired so many of the pieces i have offered, fantasies and illusions both, through no intentional act. i draw from her personal dramas and chaos and dreams i hold dear for my inspirations. she is truly dear to me, in more ways than she can imagine, but sadly i cannot name her. to do so would be to pull the mask i have created for her and expose she and i, a liberty i cannot allow myself. she is perfection in my eyes and an incredible source of innocent passions. keep a quill beside you, love, and take note of the lives of those around you throughout your day. names need not be offered in what you create from your associations, but through your words their stories may be shared. perspectives, perceptions, and propaganda can fuel your writers pyre to an endless fount of fictional possibilities. the closest you may ever be to godhood is standing before a blank parchment, lover. play god as you wish” – the7cyns Xanga.com inspiration the soft melody of rain outside your window as the blanket holds you tightly to your bed the smile of an innocent as they find bliss in the mundane the kiss of a stranger the gentle autumn breeze as you pull your lover closer to you as false protection from the chill turning your eyes at that perfect moment to catch something completely rare and wonderful the touch of someone dear to you as they hunger for someone to turn to the sounds of a lover the tears of a broken heart hunger and desire wonder and amazement passion and pain guilt and sin these are inspiration these are what must be expressed in melody and lyric made physical in dance made legend by quill and ink these are the characters on stage in your mind awaiting your script to bring them to life inspiration is the closest one can ever come to godhood | | |
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