Fair dance or death stroke
twilight burns in hearths and wilds
veiled in dawn's bright cloak.
About the Creator
Sawyer Scott
If I never pen great tales, I'll settle for being poetry.
Then in living my own life, I'll be writing my own eulogy.
Keep reading
More stories from Sawyer Scott and writers in Poets and other communities.
A telegram to Little Me
I acquired a magical souvenir; it was a realisation. By taking an impulsive trip to Thailand, I awarded myself the chance to have it. You are our own gift shop. You choose the opening times, you choose the stock. They are the very nature of wisdom, realisations. One could say we collect them and form a magnificent portfolio entitled Experience. And that's why we do the majority of things we do. But travelling is the act most generous in the offering of experience, the gift shop with the best stock. We go on the hunt for experiences, daring ourselves to be stimulated in new ways, by new flavours. To sweat, swim or shiver in the waters of new challenges. To hear new sounds, learn novel outlooks, and relish as hinges creak with unknown doors opening in our hearts and minds. This realisation and the flourishing effect it had upon me made Thailand my best trip yet. All this realisation consisted of was merely a stripped back epiphany of why we do these things. See new places, take new risks, seek refreshing distractions from all that we're tired of being familiar with.
By Konrad Krampa day ago in Wander
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.