Date: August 10, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
When you’re good on the inside you don’t feel the need to tell anybody else how they’re messed up
In a village hidden deep in the wood, A tale of music and courage once stood, A magical guitar lay silent and still, But those who played it found a devil's thrill. With every strum, the strings would ignite, Summoning a demon cloaked in the night, His form was fierce, his eyes aflame, But his gift was music, not sorrow or shame. He wasn’t evil, though he seemed so dark, A misunderstood soul with a fiery spark, The villagers feared him, kept him at bay, But one brave heart chose to sit and play. As the strings hummed with a haunting tune, The devil appeared under the silver moon, But the player, unafraid, saw past the guise, And in the devil’s eyes, found no disguise. The less they feared, the closer they drew, Embracing the demon as the music grew, For with each note, the gift was revealed, A talent unmatched, a power unsealed. The village watched as the player excelled, Their melodies pure, as their fear dispelled, For in that embrace, a truth was told, A pure heart cannot create evil, only gold. As days turned to nights, and nights into days, The music grew stronger in wondrous ways, For the devil, once feared, was now a friend, His inspiration a means, not an end. And so the player played without disdain, While others looked on with guilt and pain, For they saw in their hearts what they’d once denied, That evil exists when goodness is defied. The tale concludes with a lasting truth, One that echoes through age and youth, When you’re good on the inside, you see it clear, Negativity fades, and there’s nothing to fear. So remember this story when you feel adrift, The devil’s not evil, his form a gift, The more you embrace, the more you’ll uplift, And in that harmony, your soul will shift.
Date: August 9, 2024
painting (nadav_rock_2)
Ember Wishes
In the heart of a forest deep,Where shadows dance and secrets keep,Lies a lake of twilight's grace, A mystical, enchanting place. Here, where moonlight softly gleams, People come with whispered dreams. They fold their hopes in paper white, And set them sailing in the night. Upon the water, flames arise, Turning wishes to the skies. Each note is kissed by fire’s light, Yet one survives the burning rite. A spirit cloaked in leaves and flame, With eyes that know each whispered name, Reaches out with gentle care, To claim the wish still floating there. Through the years, the stories say, This guardian grants one wish each day. The chosen note, unburned, unscathed, Is plucked from where the fire bathed. A child’s plea for joy and peace, A lover’s hope that time might cease, A lost soul’s cry for light to mend, The spirit listens, a faithful friend. The lake then sighs, the flames subside, The spirit fades back with the tide. Another wish fulfilled at last, The present meets the future past. And so the legend gently grows, Where the ember’s glow softly flows. In "Ember Wishes," dreams ignite, Guided by the guardian’s light.
Date: August 9, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
When you cling to the good and cringe from the bad you become a punching bag. At the whims of the wind. Constantly praying for another day without a storm. When you let go of the good and seek the bad to become stronger. You become the storm
In a world where storms rage wild and free, Where winds howl loud and skies decree, No peace, no calm, just endless night, A tale begins, of strength and might. The people hid, in fear they cowered, From thunder's roar and rain that showered. They prayed for peace, for storms to cease, But found no rest, no sweet release. Until one day, a soul arose, A heart of fire, in stormy throes. No fear of dark, no dread of rain, They walked with calm through endless pain. Into the storm, they ventured deep, Where shadows twist and tempests weep. They faced the winds, the biting cold, Their spirit fierce, their courage bold. They sought not peace, nor safety’s shore, But strength within, and something more. They welcomed pain, embraced the night, And found their power in the fight. The storm, it raged, it tried to break, This soul of steel, this heart awake. But with each gust, they stood their ground, Their calm a shield, no fear was found. They stirred the storm, they bent the air, With steady hand and steady stare. The winds obeyed, the lightning bowed, The thunder’s roar became a vow. No longer prey, no longer frail, They led the storm, their guiding gale. And as they danced with nature’s might, They were consumed, but shone so bright. In final breath, they whispered low, To seek the strength, and let fear go. For those who fear, the storm will chase, But those who fight, will find their place. So in the land where tempests form, One heart became the very storm. Their calm, a force the storm now knew, In every wind, their spirit flew. And in that world, where storms once reigned, A new strength rose, from where they’d strained. For now they knew, the truth of harm, Make the storm fear your endless calm.
Date: August 8, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
Goggins made me realize hard men don’t hope its nearly over
Beneath the moon's cold, ghostly light, They rise each eve, prepared to fight, From ocean's depths, where shadows creep, The spirits wake from ancient sleep. No place is safe, no walls too high, For every night, the spirits try, To claim the living, drag them deep, Into the sea where lost souls weep. Villagers build their walls of stone, But fear within their hearts has grown, They hope and pray the end is near, But know the spirits have no fear. Each night they come, with greater force, Their vengeance takes a darker course, No matter where the walls are laid, The spirits strike, and all are afraid. But in this endless war they wage, The living learn on every stage, That hoping for an end to near, Is but a source of needless fear. For the spirits thrive on those who dread, Who wish the final fight ahead, They feed on hopes of those who tire, And stoke the flames of their desire. So the living learned to let it go, The dream of peace, the end of woe, To fight each night as if their last, And leave all hope within the past. There is no line, no final gate, No finish where the end does wait, The spirits taught this lesson well, In battles where the brave now dwell. And so they fight, with strength untold, Not hoping for an end to hold, But knowing in the darkest night, The true strength lies in endless fight. For those who live without the hope, Embrace the tide and learn to cope, They find the power deep inside, To face the waves, to turn the tide. There is no finish, no last call, The spirits know, they see it all, But in the endless, ceaseless strife, The living find the strength of life.
Date: August 7, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
Our legs and our will were the primary means we were engineered with to survive lions and monsters. We must practice them less our mind be deluded with a false feeling of safety
In a realm where shadows dance and gleam, Lies a race of spirits, chasing a dream. No finish line marks their endless track, For in the living world, some must go back. Only so many can cross the veil, One spirit enters as another must sail. Through ethereal winds, they run and strive, To find a place where they can feel alive. Among these souls, a legend is told, Of a spirit named Lyra, brave and bold. Her will was strong, her heart ablaze, In the spectral race, she led the chase. She ran with the grace of ancient times, Her legs, her will, her only chimes. Through fields of stardust, past moons of gold, Her story, a saga, a tale retold. The living world was her distant goal, Where she’d find peace for her wandering soul. But the path was fraught with trials severe, With lions and monsters, she had to persevere. Each step she took, a test of might, In the realm of shadows, void of light. Her legs, her will, her means to survive, In the ancient race to stay alive. Other spirits faltered, their hopes did wane, But Lyra pushed through the endless strain. For she knew well, as did the old lore, To stop was to lose, to run was to soar. In the heart of the race, a rival appeared, A spirit of darkness, whom others feared. Their duel was fierce, their battle grand, A test of endurance, spirit, and hand. Through forests of whispers, over mountains of mist, They ran side by side, their fates intertwined, twist by twist. Lyra’s breath grew shallow, her vision blurred, But she pressed on, undeterred. Her rival stumbled, weary and spent, As Lyra surged forward, her energy unbent. She crossed the veil as another left, Entering the world, her heart no longer bereft. In the living realm, she found her place, Her journey remembered, her eternal race. For in running, she found life’s pure essence, Her legs and will, her true presence. In this tale, we see our own reflection, Our ancient need for movement, our primal connection. We run to live, to feel, to be, In every step, in every breath, we are free. So remember Lyra, and her endless run, Her race in the shadows, under the spectral sun. For in her story, we find our might, Our legs and will, our guiding light.
Date: August 6, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
People who don’t run can’t possibly conceive the levels of anguish one can achieve by accidently pushing beyond what they thought was possible
Upon the coals, two warriors ran, Pushing limits, as only rivals can. The heat below their feet did rise, As flames reflected in their eyes. One of two rivals, each a fierce knight, Ran on burning coals, through day and night. The longer they ran, the stronger they'd be, Gaining power from the flames' decree. Their world was forged in fiery trial, Each step, each breath, a test of guile. With every mile, their spirits soared, For in this pain, new strength was stored. They’d fall from the coals to the world of men, To find each other, and fight again. With blades that clashed and spirits bright, They battled fiercely, day and night. Once they fell, their bodies tired, Their souls returned to the coals, inspired. For death was but a fleeting state, Their purpose clear, their rivals' fate. In the flames, they found their might, In the searing pain, their spirits’ light. Most can't conceive such levels of pain, But through this fire, true strength they gain. Through anguish deep, beyond what’s known, They pushed beyond, their limits shown. For only those who dare to tread, On paths of fire, where others dread, Can find the strength they never knew, In burning coals, their power grew. The fate of a warrior, determined in strife, raining in flames, for an eternal life. So on they ran, in endless race, With power and pain they’d embrace. Each run, each fall, each fierce fight, Forging their spirits, burning bright. Their entire purpose, to best their foe, In a cycle of flames, they’d always know. For in the fire, their strength was earned, A warrior’s fate, through training, learned.
Date: August 5, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
We only wake up to exert our free will when our automated responses lack the strength to handle that moment in life
In a realm where dreams entwine the night, There lies a child in slumber's light. In peaceful rest, beneath the moon's gleam, He weaves through worlds within his dream. Thirteen immortals, timeless and bold, Guarded the secrets of ages untold. Yet, immortality's fragile embrace, Could still be shattered, could still be erased. When one immortal met their fated end, The child's deep sleep would swiftly suspend. He'd rise from rest, his eyes open wide, To seek a soul with strength inside. Through valleys and peaks, he'd tread the earth, To find a heart of equal worth. For only those with courage pure, Could bear the gift and duty endure. A moment came, an immortal fell, Their essence faded, a silent knell. The child awoke from his dreamy keep, To roam the land, his vigil deep. In bustling towns and forests vast, He sought the one who'd break the cast. The worthiness of soul he'd find, In trials faced and hearts aligned. One day, he met a soul so true, Whose automated life withdrew. In hardship’s grip, with will anew, They faced the storm and pushed on through. The child saw strength in this mortal's eye, A resolve that reached towards the sky. This was the one, so brave and wise, To carry the torch, to never disguise. With choice and will, their bond was sealed, The immortal's power to them revealed. The child then smiled, his quest complete, Returning to his slumber sweet. In shadows deep and twilight's grace, He drifted back to his peaceful place. The cycle turned, the story spun, Until the day his task was done. For in those moments, rare and bright, When automated ways take flight, We wake to find our inner fire, Our strength and will, our true desire. Thus, the child’s journey would repeat, Whenever an immortal faced defeat. In those rare moments, choice would rise, And free will’s strength would light the skies.
Date: August 4, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
The more messed up the beginnings the greater the destination
In a humble village, where dreams seemed far, Lived a boy in a wheelchair, who reached for a star. With a spirit so fierce, though his body was weak, He yearned for the heavens, a destiny unique. Determined he was, not hindered by plight, He crafted jet engines to soar into flight. From the ground to the clouds, his spirit did climb, Turbo jets on his chair, defying all time. But the clouds weren't enough for this dreamer so bold, He built rockets to venture where stories are told. To outer space he journeyed, with fire and grace, The stars in his eyes, the cosmos to chase. Yet the stars were just steps in his boundless quest, A hyper drive next, for he couldn't rest. Across the galaxy, his adventures did span, From nebulae bright to the dark planet's span. He saw wonders untold, galaxies far and wide, Met beings of light, with wisdom as guide. His heart grew stronger with each passing star, For his journey was endless, no dream too far. He returned to his village, with tales of the skies, A beacon of hope, with star dusted eyes. The wonders he'd seen, the strength he had gained, A testament to dreams, though beginnings were pained. From humble starts, to the galaxy's end, The boy showed the world where courage can send. For no dream refuses a dreamer so true, The more messed up the start, the further dreams flew. His story a legend, a beacon of light, Proving strength comes from struggle, and dark turns to bright. The essence of his journey, in every heart's theme, That the greatest destinations are born from a dream.
Date: August 3, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
Running is mental warfare
In a world where shadows once held sway, A spirit raced, to keep the dark at bay. Around the globe, at the speed of sound, Banishing creatures that in night were found. With every stride, a war within was fought, A chessboard in the mind, where battles were wrought. Against the weaker self, it played each game, Enduring constant pain, yet never losing aim. The spirit's speed was light's last gleaming hope, To run forever was its binding trope. Through valleys deep and mountains high, Its presence kept the darkness nigh. Running was a mental war, a fight, Against the thoughts that whispered of respite. Each step a victory, each move a test, To stop would mean an endless dark unrest. In the beginning, it was but a spark, A soul chosen to keep the world from dark. With wings of speed and heart of flame, It rose to face the shadows' claim. Through endless nights and dawning days, It never ceased its relentless chase. In every corner, where the darkness crept, The spirit’s light through shadow leapt. But as it ran, the inner game would play, A mental chess to keep the fears at bay. For should it lose, and falter in its stride, The world would fall, consumed by night’s tide. In the end, though weary, it remains, A beacon bright through all the pains. For even darkness cannot outpace, The light that runs with endless grace. So, it runs, a testament to all, That the mind’s battles can make us stand tall. In every step, the war is won, Till darkness fades before the sun.
Date: August 2, 2024
painting (nadav_rock_2)
The Golden Tears
In a realm where secrets reside, A woman of a blood lie did hide.Her tears, a touch of golden hue, Transforming liquids, as they flew. Even entire oceans' breadth, Would turn to gold upon her breath. They hide, those tears of precious worth, From prying eyes upon this earth. Immune to pain, immune to sorrow, No torture could make her tears borrow. Her heart, a fortress, cold and strong, Where cries of pain did not belong. A clever thief, with plan in hand, Set out across this mystic land. To break her heart, his cunning quest, For one gold tear, he’d give his best. But in pursuit of golden tear, He found a love so true and clear. The thief, now caught within her charm, Would never bring her heart to harm. For love had changed his wicked ways, In her, he found his brighter days. No tear he’d take, no gold he’d need, For love, not gold, was now his creed. "The Golden Tears," a tale of old, Of hearts entwined and love so bold. Where thieves and secrets intertwine, And love turns every tear to shine.
