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unveil the folklore: of breathtaking nature, where peerless decorations demand admiration and a proforma of artistry paints an unmatched panorama, adorned with a flowery aroma and challenging, cheerful charisma
│ the morning dew on red roses glistens at early dawn,
│ sunbeams brightly descend, illuminating nature's grandeur,
│such depth of beauty adorns the ever-glistening meadows.
⠀⠀⠀
˚｡⋆☽ ◯ ☾⋆｡˚
photographs filmed,
paint @iroha 1880's.
the soft gown of nature's music plays, creatures listen in great awe, people cannot frown, be it in wild woods or hometown. ranging across this land, the excited panorama ventures through daytime, yearning to find countless new friends, whose humble charity brings a resplendent companionship, dispelling the recent loneliness and monotony of life.
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unveil the folklore: of breathtaking nature, where peerless decorations demand admiration and a proforma of artistry paints an unmatched panorama, adorned with a flowery aroma and challenging, cheerful charisma
{...} in a melodic song, the scent of sundried hay fills the air, as nimble pitchers handle pitchforks, savoring new wheat, fresh husk, and maize. │ the morning dew on red roses glistens at early dawn,
│ sunbeams brightly descend, illuminating nature's grandeur,
│such depth of beauty adorns the ever-glistening meadows.
⠀⠀⠀
˚｡⋆☽ ◯ ☾⋆｡˚
photographs filmed,
paint @iroha 1880's.
۫ ⸼ 🝮.. {ink poets, 80's} ／the soft gown of nature's music plays, creatures listen in great awe, people cannot frown, be it in wild woods or hometown. ranging across this land, the excited panorama ventures through daytime, yearning to find countless new friends, whose humble charity brings a resplendent companionship, dispelling the recent loneliness and monotony of life.
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in the depths of serenity / 29. 07. 23.
whispers of the silent sea.
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a tranquil essence surrounds me, keeps me calm throughout the night. how could such peace be so elusive, yet so right? that's the essence of our bond: mysterious, uncharted, divine. only cherished moments, secret glances, and yearning hearts, the only proof of what we share is the warmth you left behind, lingering. you and i are a perfect harmony, though some call us unconventional. we knew the risks, yet we ventured forth — "i love you like the stars are eternally adorned in the sky, and how the river and the breeze dance with grace. i love you like the echoes of the mountains, i love you like the blossoms embrace the spring." our love is like rare metaphors, not the usual, but truly one of a kind. i apologize for having so little to give, but as the world shifts, i promise our love will conquer all in time.
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in the depths of serenity / 29. 07. 23.
whispers of the silent sea.
⠀⠀⠀⠀
a tranquil essence surrounds me, keeps me calm throughout the night. how could such peace be so elusive, yet so right? that's the essence of our bond: mysterious, uncharted, divine. only cherished moments, secret glances, and yearning hearts, the only proof of what we share is the warmth you left behind, lingering. you and i are a perfect harmony, though some call us unconventional. we knew the risks, yet we ventured forth — "i love you like the stars are eternally adorned in the sky, and how the river and the breeze dance with grace. i love you like the echoes of the mountains, i love you like the blossoms embrace the spring." our love is like rare metaphors, not the usual, but truly one of a kind. i apologize for having so little to give, but as the world shifts, i promise our love will conquer all in time.
⠀⠀⠀⠀
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(whispers of the heart — eternal connection)
a solitary breeze caresses, gently carrying cherished emotions into the vast unknown. unchaining the heart's melody, it soars and ascends beyond mortal realms, for these feelings endure, timeless and eternal. amid the unhurried passage of time, they remain steadfast, forever present. like an embrace from the sea's open arms, the lonely river sighs, praying for the swiftness of divine love to reach me, my beloved, my dearest one.
enscribed by the ghost writter, 1990.
a solitary breeze caresses, gently carrying cherished emotions into the vast unknown. unchaining the heart's melody, it soars and ascends beyond mortal realms, for these feelings endure, timeless and eternal. amid the unhurried passage of time, they remain steadfast, forever present. like an embrace from the sea's open arms, the lonely river sighs, praying for the swiftness of divine love to reach me, my beloved, my dearest one.
enscribed by the ghost writter, 1990.
whispers of the ethereal. pinned «ㅤ unveil the folklore: of breathtaking nature, where peerless decorations demand admiration and a proforma of artistry paints an unmatched panorama, adorned with a flowery aroma and challenging, cheerful charisma {...} in a melodic song, the scent of sundried…»
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# amidst the autumn changing seasons of 1978, here lies a momentary respite for the mind and soul of a broken-hearted archangel.📔
the last autumn we chose to share remains etched as sacred in my memory. it was then that i began to long for the comfort of returning to your never-ending warmth.
you, the weaver of my dreams, the one for whom i'd peel dozens of tangerines and cut watermelons. however, the once-golden thread that bound us has now turned rotten, starving from the loss of affection we once reveled in during the blindness of bliss. Winter arrived the other day, and it served as a stark reminder that our paths shall never cross again.
yett, should i persist in loving you, even as what we had withers away, just like the trees blown by the north wind?
ㅤㅤ
# amidst the autumn changing seasons of 1978, here lies a momentary respite for the mind and soul of a broken-hearted archangel.
the last autumn we chose to share remains etched as sacred in my memory. it was then that i began to long for the comfort of returning to your never-ending warmth.
you, the weaver of my dreams, the one for whom i'd peel dozens of tangerines and cut watermelons. however, the once-golden thread that bound us has now turned rotten, starving from the loss of affection we once reveled in during the blindness of bliss. Winter arrived the other day, and it served as a stark reminder that our paths shall never cross again.
yett, should i persist in loving you, even as what we had withers away, just like the trees blown by the north wind?
ㅤㅤ
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ㅤ️️
ㅤ️️ㅤ️️(’then i fell for being a choice, in 1986.)
ㅤ️️ “but rose because forebodings chose it.”
ㅤ️️ ───────────────────────
ㅤ️️something memorable at that time, where i was made a choice but ended well because it was chosen by someone i admire and canonize. it's unimaginable, and the heartstrings that year became something eternally imprinted in my cerebrum, never fading away because I always believed in him, that he would demonstrate it one nightfall. that anecdote and that plot become the omphalos for those who encounter the fun that doesn't know how to describe it because it's, to be sure, the greatest bestowed ever and
ㅤ️️ (... | “it's about him with her
ㅤ️️ㅤ️️ㅤ️️ㅤ️️ㅤ️️past story.) ╱ 1987s.
ㅤ️️ㅤ (’AND IT'S TOWARDS ANALOGUE.)
ㅤ️️moment flies by, bringing exciting stories and otherwise without feeling either burden all this time. a purposefulness and inventiveness that i established in myself is something that is the most monumental and the most grateful. i can constantly maneuver it well even if it is so round-the-clock. Then, how will i be in the by-and-by? i have a chronicle that was a romance that was uproar in its epoch, and all the choices I didn't like ended up being a full-bodied past. my myth is my life; that choice is my fate “and that path is my counterplot.” courtesy survives, and godsend’s sure-enough.
ㅤ │“those eyes are yours, and you choose
ㅤ │to seek mine and my eyes with your
ㅤ │eyes turn into legitimate feelings.”
ㅤ️️ㅤ️️ㅤ️️ㅤ ️️ ㅤ️️(
ㅤ️️
ㅤ️️ㅤ️️(’then i fell for being a choice, in 1986.)
ㅤ️️ “but rose because forebodings chose it.”
ㅤ️️ ───────────────────────
ㅤ️️something memorable at that time, where i was made a choice but ended well because it was chosen by someone i admire and canonize. it's unimaginable, and the heartstrings that year became something eternally imprinted in my cerebrum, never fading away because I always believed in him, that he would demonstrate it one nightfall. that anecdote and that plot become the omphalos for those who encounter the fun that doesn't know how to describe it because it's, to be sure, the greatest bestowed ever and
ㅤ️️ (... | “it's about him with her
ㅤ️️ㅤ️️ㅤ️️ㅤ️️ㅤ️️past story.) ╱ 1987s.
ㅤ️️ㅤ (’AND IT'S TOWARDS ANALOGUE.)
ㅤ️️moment flies by, bringing exciting stories and otherwise without feeling either burden all this time. a purposefulness and inventiveness that i established in myself is something that is the most monumental and the most grateful. i can constantly maneuver it well even if it is so round-the-clock. Then, how will i be in the by-and-by? i have a chronicle that was a romance that was uproar in its epoch, and all the choices I didn't like ended up being a full-bodied past. my myth is my life; that choice is my fate “and that path is my counterplot.” courtesy survives, and godsend’s sure-enough.
ㅤ │“those eyes are yours, and you choose
ㅤ │to seek mine and my eyes with your
ㅤ │eyes turn into legitimate feelings.”
ㅤ️️ㅤ️️ㅤ️️ㅤ ️️ ㅤ️️(
...)ㅤ️️