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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Survival / Success
- Subject: Art / Music / Theater / Dance
- Published: 02/21/2012
WisdomScape
Born 1993, M, from Langley/BC, CanadaThat infernal eye, that baker of the wit which so despised man that he endeavored to slay him, was once again on his way across the blue firmament. I, weary wanderer within this wisdomless waste, was wondering where to walk. As I stumbeled cross dunes of ignorance, I met a man who watched the daily grave into which the intellect aggressor afore mentioned sunk. He said that he saw a city of purest symetry, to which he proceeded to stumble. As I looked into the glare of the inquisitor of intelligence, I saw a dim, ethereal outline, of which I did not claim knowledge. As the man ran off, obviously heat maddened, I shook my head and proceeded in the direction I had been stumbling. He may have wished for a city, cold, logical, and perfect though it was, but I wished for something altogether more human in nature.
As I continued to walk into the icy cold left behind as that magister that maligned the muse met his maker once again (or so we thought), I once more spotted a fellow biped of advanced cerebral capacity, contemplating a massive rock. He told me that he had hoped to hide in it's hollow, but I warned him of it's hastening and harmful imminent collapse. Dwelling in habitats of stone had been human's history, but I found this to be abhorrent as it was altogether too ruthlessly factual, too human one might say.
So once more, I resumed my journey, as the thinner of thought again rose anew from the other side of the terrestrial globe. And finally what did I see, but an oasis of inky onyx colour. As I gladly sipped of these literary waters, I met a community of those whose minds, like mine, tuned to the musical flow of water sweet. One said the water was clear and lapping on the shore in a most ear pleasing manner. Another said he saw the beautiful shades of all the world reflected in the liquid. Yet others, most like unto myself, saw shapes of letters emerging in the inky depths. As we celebrated the love that we shared, a man came jogging by, and stopped to fill his bottle at the water, saying that he was trusting in his body to get him to the end of the desert. We welcomed him to the drink, and slowly the sun sank once more into his house of death.
WisdomScape(Tyrel Franson)
That infernal eye, that baker of the wit which so despised man that he endeavored to slay him, was once again on his way across the blue firmament. I, weary wanderer within this wisdomless waste, was wondering where to walk. As I stumbeled cross dunes of ignorance, I met a man who watched the daily grave into which the intellect aggressor afore mentioned sunk. He said that he saw a city of purest symetry, to which he proceeded to stumble. As I looked into the glare of the inquisitor of intelligence, I saw a dim, ethereal outline, of which I did not claim knowledge. As the man ran off, obviously heat maddened, I shook my head and proceeded in the direction I had been stumbling. He may have wished for a city, cold, logical, and perfect though it was, but I wished for something altogether more human in nature.
As I continued to walk into the icy cold left behind as that magister that maligned the muse met his maker once again (or so we thought), I once more spotted a fellow biped of advanced cerebral capacity, contemplating a massive rock. He told me that he had hoped to hide in it's hollow, but I warned him of it's hastening and harmful imminent collapse. Dwelling in habitats of stone had been human's history, but I found this to be abhorrent as it was altogether too ruthlessly factual, too human one might say.
So once more, I resumed my journey, as the thinner of thought again rose anew from the other side of the terrestrial globe. And finally what did I see, but an oasis of inky onyx colour. As I gladly sipped of these literary waters, I met a community of those whose minds, like mine, tuned to the musical flow of water sweet. One said the water was clear and lapping on the shore in a most ear pleasing manner. Another said he saw the beautiful shades of all the world reflected in the liquid. Yet others, most like unto myself, saw shapes of letters emerging in the inky depths. As we celebrated the love that we shared, a man came jogging by, and stopped to fill his bottle at the water, saying that he was trusting in his body to get him to the end of the desert. We welcomed him to the drink, and slowly the sun sank once more into his house of death.
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