The-Great-Beyond770

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Limits

The role of the composer is not to be free of limits, but to present to the world the power of the writer. To show we comprehend them, to show we work within them, to show limits breed genius. Limits do not smother, they embolden. Fire in the wind soon gets snuffed out, but with shelter it grows hot. Limits exist to form composer's shelter for the fire in their mind. Heroes do not denounce the limits thrust upon them. Upon losing their sword, heroes do not protest how much mightier their skills would be if their steel edge were in their grip. Heroes win the fight with their fists in lieu of their sword. For those who c

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71 deviations

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Limits

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67 deviations

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The Nearly Forgotten Times, A Factual Story

The pain on her face was clear; it was also unbearable to watch. To see a strong, valiant woman reduced to such a state was just awful. Visiting my mother in hospital was hard enough, she was recovering from a small stroke; but seeing the woman in the bed across from her in such turmoil was killing the both of us inside. My mother would recover; this old soul across from us would not. While she did indeed suffer from pain of the body, she had broken her arm in a fall and that's why she was in hospital, she mainly suffered from pain of the mind. She had Alzheimer's, and every 15 minutes or so, she would forget why she was laying in a hospital

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Limits by The-Great-Beyond770, literature

Literature

Limits

The End by The-Great-Beyond770, literature

Object Permanence by The-Great-Beyond770, literature

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Object Permanence

An abject fear of mine, is the fear of being forgotten, to find my name, carries no weight, and has no trace, of object permanence. To walk out the room, and not be subject to rumour. To vacate the dining table, and know not a syllable, of my arbitrary call sign, is uttered by anyone's lips. I would gladly take vicious rumours, and those who sneer most bitterly, on the courage of my liquor. I hope and beg, that my name carries impact, that it carries more weight, than an object.

The Way We're Wired by The-Great-Beyond770, literature

Literature

The Way We're Wired

We can't choose who we fall for, nor can we choose the way our body reacts, think how simple, think how free, think of how easy love could be, if we could just pick, who we love, and who we lust for... Many times they are one in the same, but sometimes our l's are split. We may lust after one person while, never offering them love. We may love a person wholly and truly, but not for lack of trying, cannot produce, the intimacy required to feel as one. Amorous activities are, not the be all and end all of love, but they are not to be, disregarded entirely. For these actions of passion, are the pinnacle, of how physically close you two can be.

Georgia by The-Great-Beyond770, literature

Literature

Georgia

Georgia can break worlds, and build them again better. Georgia is surrounded, by the disconsolate, and the supercilious, and yet she remains, an impassioned wreck. Sometimes Georgia can feel, desultory, furious, ecstatic, quixotic, saturnine, and all at the same time. This is why Georgia can break and build worlds. Georgia's words captivate, whether they're Stygian, or ebullient. She lives emotion, and while she can lose devotion, her words captivate. Georgia can break worlds, and build them again better. She can be a mercurial mess, but no mind that is in, a single piece, could ever build the worlds, that she constructs.

Eulogy by The-Great-Beyond770, literature

Literature

Eulogy

All will eventually be dust, The Earth will swallow the humans, The sun will swallow the Earth, The rest of the universe will swallow the sun, The void will swallow the rest of the universe... So when I die, Don't say my memory will live forever, Not even the stars will live forever, Smile, Crack a joke, Spare a thought, Move on, 'Cause the Earth is waiting to swallow you next, And it'd be an awful shame for you, To lose some of that time on my account.

The Drunken Buddha by The-Great-Beyond770, literature

Literature

The Drunken Buddha

As the drunkard staggered and swayed his way down the street, as if the concrete were rolling ocean waves and he was trying not to be swept away by them, a naive 15 year old sat in a restaurant with his parents. He turned away from the visage with feelings of pity and disgust. He tried to pay attention to the conversation around him, but he couldn't shake his disconsolate mood. "Why do people drink?" He blurted out, with little tact or delicacy. "Nothing good seems to come of it. All it seems to do is make people lose their balance, lose their ability to speak, and make them feel dreadful in the morning." His parents just laughed to themselv

The Throes of Life (Part 1) by The-Great-Beyond770, literature

The Nearly Forgotten Times, A Factual Story by The-Great-Beyond770, literature

Literature

The Nearly Forgotten Times, A Factual Story

Do you? by The-Great-Beyond770, literature

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