W4rriorC4t
“I just want to create things - even if nobody cares”
She shapes her world with honesty,
a subtle sort of sorcery.
Not all who met her walked away,
a few were ever meant to stay.
She doesn't seek the noise they chase-
her soul is shaped for slower pace.
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She craves the shade where mushrooms hide,
where fragrant brews and time collide.
She loves the red that darkness keeps,
the night where golden secrets sleep.
In tangled woods or glowing screens,
she finds her place in in-between.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
She binds the void with practiced grace,
a spine to hold the empty space.
On paper's skin her visions creep,
in lines that whisper, dark and deep.
The pigments dance and stake their claim,
no canvas ever leaves the same.
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Her quite hands move endlessly,
each crafted thing a mystery.
She sees the worlds no eyes could trace,
each word a door, each line a place.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Beyond these lines, much more could be,
still, this poem's about only me.
A good book, a hot beverage, a cozy atmosphere. And a giant christmas tree in front of the window.
A solar eclipse dips this japanese temple-style village at the mountain into deep crimson light.
A scary-cozy mushroomy pumpkin witch kitchen
A forgotten temple, a broken hourglass and lots and lots of hours lost in this project.
A neon lit cyberpunk city with cables, figures and a cat.
