Date: October 11, 2024
painting (nadav_rock_2)
Hunger Is Rarely Friend
In a clan of ancient steel, Where swords could think, and blades could feel, A warrior once, of noble name, Fell victim to his weapon’s claim. The sword he bore was not just cold, It hungered more with every soul. The more it tasted, the more it grew, Its whispers turned from soft to true. It spoke to him, its will now clear, “Feed me, feed me, don’t you fear.” And so, he went on a bloody spree, But the man was gone — just the sword, set free. The clan, alarmed by his cruel descent, Sent others forth, on justice bent. But those who lived to see him pass, Recognized his fate in their own glass. They too wielded blades that thirst, And one by one, they fell to the curse. The louder the sword, the more they fought, Until their wills were all for naught. One lone samurai still held strong, His mind, though tested, did no wrong. He reached the lost one, their battle fierce, But to save him now would mean death’s pierce. The final blow brought silence deep, But in his head, the whispers creep. Now his challenge, harder still, To return home with unbroken will. The blade calls out, louder each night, But he must resist, not lose the fight. For hunger’s voice is a treacherous guide, And seldom will it stay by your side.
Date: October 11, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
Never underestimate the inevitable price of compromise
A young prince rose, too soon to reign, A crown of gold, but forged in pain. With each decision, hard to make, He’d seek the middle for peace’s sake. His throne was magic, dark and deep, It bit his soul with every creep Of evil left to fester, grow, A hidden cost he’d soon come to know. He’d compromise when choices came, Avoiding hardship, bearing blame. The darkness thrived on his restraint, Each gentle choice left him more faint. Years passed, his body still in place, But hollow eyes, no soul to trace. An empty king, a vacant shell, The throne had cursed him with its spell. But then one day, the truth he’d learn— To fix the world, he must return. He set out from the royal keep, Where evil flourished in the deep. Each shadow slain, each evil fought, Returned a piece that time forgot. With every battle, every win, A part of him would grow within. Yet still, he knew, one foe remained, A darkness vast he hadn’t tamed. To face the greatest sin he’d sown, He’d fight the evil from his throne. And so he sought that final test, A monster darker than the rest. For only through this fight so dire, Could he reclaim his heart’s lost fire. He stood, prepared, though scared to fall, Knowing well the price of all. For every choice to not stand tall, Had led him here, his soul so small. And as he fought with all his might, He knew that compromise, though light, Would always leave a hidden cost— A part of you forever lost. But in the end, though torn and worn, His soul returned, his crown reborn. No dark choice comes without a toll, For half a heart can’t make you whole.
Date: October 10, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
You can’t fully commit to being honest with yourself while keeping on deceiving others
A man once wandered through a cave so deep, In shadows long where secrets sleep. There, he found a sword of ancient light, And once unsheathed, he gained great might. As steel met air, he changed his form, A samurai of fire and storm. When night would fall, he’d close his eyes, And in the sword, he’d travel skies. Inside himself, his battles grew, A monster cold, a demon too. He breathed out flames to earn respect, But in his heart, was lost, unchecked. He spread great tales of foes he’d slay, And whispered dreams to light the way. Yet deep inside, he knew the cost— He sought the truth of all he’d lost. Each day he’d fight, each day he'd claim, A legend born, a growing flame. But in his sleep, the lies took hold, The legend’s weight began to fold. One night, tired of the deceit, He faced the truth, his soul’s retreat. He told the world, "I’m just a man, Who found a sword by simple chance." That night within his dream he fought, The legend he himself had wrought. He knew each move, each strike, each blow, For he had made the myth they’d know. At last he won, he broke the seal, And from his past, the truth revealed: It was he who hid that sword away, And with it, lost his life’s own day. His tales of grandeur had been true, But he had forgotten what he knew. With truth regained, the power came, No longer bound by lies or shame. Now armored with his honest soul, The man, the myth, became whole. For in the end, the truth was clear— To know himself was what he'd feared. He set out once more, his spirit high, No longer living in a lie. The sword’s full power in his hand, He’d change the world and take his stand. For the greatest strength he'd come to see, Was living life in honesty.
Date: October 9, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
I don’t listen to paranoid people. Not because I think they’re wrong. But because I tend to think they’re right
A girl was stolen from her home one night, Bound by chains, denied the light, Years of torment, a life in pain, Her captors ruling, cruel and vain. She vowed that never, in her life, Would anyone again hold the knife. She broke free one darkened day, Determined now to find her way. Along the road, a traveler passed, He offered drink, but nothing lasts. She switched the cups with sleight and grace, Distrust had etched it in her face. He drank the brew, and in her gaze, She saw his will begin to haze. She tested him, her words grew cold, “Walk off the cliff,” and he was bold. Without a pause, he met his death, Leaving her with bated breath. She found a flask inside his bag, An ancient script, a mystic tag. The potion’s power, she now could see, Could bend the world, bring it to its knees. She drank herself, then poured it well, And soon the town was under her spell. The whispers spread, her name, her might, As one by one they lost the fight. An army rose, at her command, The world itself within her hand. But power’s thrill began to fade, As all the world her feet had swayed. With no resistance left to face, She let them go, left them a trace. A chosen few, the strong and wise, She kept them bound, their wills disguised. For in their strength, her fate would stand, But with control, her world was planned. Yet when released, they all recalled The voice that whispered, silent, enthralled. They questioned still if they were free, Or puppets of her mystery. The world had strings that none could see, Each one controlled by destiny. Paranoia now spread fast, A lingering shadow from the past. Though they believed their minds were clear, Doubt would reign, and truth unclear. For even free, they wondered still, Was it their choice, or her own will? And so she watched them, from afar, The world that questioned who they are. For every thread that they unwound, Another tie would soon be found. In every soul, a quiet fear, That someone else might pull them near. Perhaps they’re free, or so they say, But maybe she still holds the sway. For in the mind, where thoughts are twined, The strings remain, both loose and blind. A world that waits, forever caught, In webs of power, fear, and thought.
Date: October 8, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
Pain has a limited amount of patience. If you don’t go to him he will come to you
In a village by the cave’s dark maw, The children faced the spiders' claw. One bite, the sharpest pain they’d know, A bond that deepened year by year to grow. Each child returned, though fear was thick, To find their spider, to feel its prick. But one young boy, afraid of pain, Refused to walk that path again. He ran from the cave, from fate’s cruel sting, Hoping the fear of hurt would bring A peace, a life without the bite, But pain grew stronger out of sight. Each year that passed, the spider swelled, Its hunger grew, its rage compelled. The boy would flee, but never fast, For shadows of his fear would cast. He left his village, far behind, To keep the spider from his mind. But life, it found him, just the same, In love’s embrace, he played the game. Yet love, too, bore its weight of ache, The fear of loss he couldn’t shake. He left her side, afraid to feel, The joy, the pain, the raw, the real. But when he fled, the spider came, With legs of fire, eyes aflame. She stood between him and the past, The love he left, the fear so vast. The spider bit, and she was gone, A life he could have leaned upon. Now he stood, both lost and cold, His heart weighed down, his courage sold. In that moment, he faced the beast, The pain he feared had never ceased. Its fangs sunk deep, his body screamed, Yet in that agony, he dreamed. For though the pain tore through his soul, He felt a strange, familiar pull. The fear, the flight, the years of strain, Were nothing to the burning pain. With teeth lodged deep within his bone, The spider now would not let go. But as he hurt, he came to see, The price of fear was far too steep. So now, each day, though fangs remain, He walks toward the heart of pain. No longer does he choose to hide, For running gave no peace inside. The bite persists, but now he knows, That pain, like life, is where we grow. And though it burns, though tears still fall, He runs toward it, standing tall. For pain has limits, though it’s strong, But flee from it, and it lasts long. The boy, now man, has made his peace, And so the fear, at last, will cease. Life will have its pound of flesh one day, And pain will come, no matter the way. But those who face it, seek it first, Find strength to quench the deepest thirst.
Date: October 7, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
Faith wanes and purpose remains
In the heart of the world's largest desert, a child stood tall, Determined and fearless, believing she’d conquer it all. With a piano by her side, its keys made of gold, She played with purpose, a story untold. Each note she struck made the sand rearrange, Forming a path, shimmering and strange. With every melody, bricks would appear, A trail through the desert, shimmering clear. She believed, in those early days, so sure, That this golden path would lead to a cure— An end to the endless, the desert’s expanse, A way out if she just gave it a chance. But the desert stretched on, year after year, Her faith grew faint, replaced by fear. The path would fade, then she'd play once more, But doubt crept in where belief had soared. She no longer thought she’d reach the end, Yet still she played, her purpose to tend. For though her faith began to fall, Her hands still played, answering the call. No one knows what became of her fate, If she ever escaped or met her end late. But the golden path she forged remains, A guiding light through the desert’s pains. And those who walk on the bricks she laid Hear the music her fingers once played. Her faith may have waned, her belief worn thin, But her purpose endured, and others begin. For sometimes it’s not belief that keeps us on track— It’s the purpose that pushes us when faith won’t come back. Though she vanished into the desert’s embrace, Her trail leads others through that vast, lonely place. Purpose leaves a trail where faith may not stay, A path for the lost, guiding their way.
Date: October 6, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
Always pick the path that has more bees
In a world where choices shape the soul, A boy was given one year’s toll, Each decision carved a path anew, Changing all he was and all he knew. One fateful day, as bandits came, He fled his home in fear and shame, When he returned, his village burned, And in his heart, a lesson turned. He swore that day, no fear would bind, No coward's path would cloud his mind. Two roads before him, both unclear, One filled with bees, the other fear. Though stings would come, he knew the way, Was braver where the bees did stay. Each year, a choice, though fraught with pain, He picked the path with more to gain. His body grew, his power strong, His heart beat fierce, his spirit long, Until at last, his form did twist, A nightmare in the darkened mist. People whispered, feared his name, But courage was his only flame. For in the night, the monsters came, From worlds beyond, with eyes aflame. They smelled the fear, they sought the weak, Their razor teeth would tear and seek, But when they faced the fearless one, Their terror turned, their fight undone. He stood unmoved, as inches near, Their snarling jaws dissolved in fear, With every breath, they shrank away, And one by one, they could not stay. His courage was the light they missed, The only hope within the abyss. Each step he took, the monsters fled, For he had no fear, no coward's dread. In the end, he stood alone, The path of bees had made him known. A warning clear to all who’d see: The braver path is always key. So when the choices rise and weigh, Pick the bees, don’t shy away. For courage grows in every sting, And light will shine through everything.
Date: October 5, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
The world is made of dreams people refused to wake from
In a land where dreams and waking meet, Where thoughts become the ground beneath, The people choose to wake or stay, For dreams could grow, then fade away. A girl was born, unlike the rest, With eyes that saw beyond the crest. She wandered through this wondrous land, With questions none could understand. “Where do I come from? What’s my path?” She asked the stars, she asked the grass. One day, an old sage, weathered, wise, Told her the truth with knowing eyes: “You are a dream, my child, it’s clear, Brought forth by love so pure, sincere. A dreamer’s heart, who could not wake, He gave his life for your sweet sake.” So off she went, across the fields, To find the one whose dream revealed, Her purpose, why she crossed the line, Where dreams and waking worlds entwine. She found him by the Dreamer’s Gate, The one who held the world’s own fate. He slept beside the fragile seam, Where nightmares too could start to stream. For since he’d slept, the dreams had spread— Some good, some dark, some filled with dread. And now the girl must choose her way: Let beauty burn or keep at bay. A nightmare too had learned the truth, That dreams could tear the world from youth. It sought to break the gate apart, And plunge all souls in darkness' heart. With courage born of dream and light, She kissed the gatekeeper, her knight. He woke but once, just long enough, For them to share a glance of love. A dreamer met his dream that day, And in her eyes, the truth did lay: “The world is made of dreams,” she knew, “Of people who stayed brave and true.” He closed his eyes and slept once more, While she stood guard upon the shore, Where dreams could roam, both good and ill, But never break against her will. For dreams, she learned, must not be bound, They shape the earth, they turn the ground. And only those who choose to see, Can wake their dreams and set them free. So loose your dreams upon the sky, And let them soar, and let them fly. For only those who dare to dream, Can mold the world from what they’ve seen. The world is shaped by those who choose To see their vision through and through. Imagination builds the land, When dreamers wake and take a stand.
Date: October 4, 2024
painting (nadav_rock_2)
Some Flames May Never Be Silenced
In days of old when dragons soared, They kept the peace with breath that roared. When wars began, both sides they burned, So none would fight, and peace returned. But dragons had a flaw, you see, A weakness tied to golden glee. Though bound by duty, fierce and grand, Their hearts could turn to greed’s command. One dragon, strong, defied the sword, While others fell, his life endured. Men tempted him with treasure bright, Until his duty slipped from sight. His flame, once fierce, began to fade, His body shrunk, his strength decayed. Now small as a child, without his fire, He cared for gold, no longer higher. His flame, now free, flew round his head, A spirit glowing, filled with dread. “Remember peace, your sacred vow, The world is burning, stop it now.” But greed had made his heart a stone, He'd sit on treasure all alone. The wars grew fierce, the armies swelled, And soon destruction’s wrath was felt. Two mighty forces, both so proud, Prepared to clash, the drums were loud. The fiery spirit, desperate, cried, “What use is gold if all have died?” At last, the dragon heard its plea, “What good is wealth if none can see?” His heart aflame, his fire returned, With roaring might, his spirit burned. He grew once more to massive size, And cast a fire across the skies. A wall of flame that split the land, And stopped the war with one command. The armies stood on either side, Divided now by flame so wide. The dragon’s duty, long delayed, Had saved the world, though he had strayed. For greed may whisper, tempt, and bind, But some flames never leave your mind. And when the world is on the brink, A fire once lost may rise and think. Though dragons fall, though greed may grow, Some flames inside will always glow.
Date: October 4, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
When it comes to routines of fluctuating difficulty fear has little competence at predicting the challenge to follow. It just always predicts the worst
A warrior born, her skin like flame, Compassion made her soft, yet strong her name. But steel she donned when feelings fled, An armor forged from hearts long dead. Her task was set, the labyrinth wide, With creatures fierce on every side. Each step she took, the whispers grew, From warriors past who'd fallen through. They whispered doubts to break her calm, Their voices cold, their fears a psalm. If she faltered, let fear take hold, Her armor vanished, her fate foretold. Through fiery foes, she held her ground, Her heart a drum, a steady sound. She knew the path, the center near, But shadows spoke, and screamed with fear. “Turn back now, you’re bound to fall, The dangers rise, the creatures call!” With each new turn, the voices pressed, The worst of fates, they did suggest. Her armor waned, her courage thinned, As fear predicted, "You can't win." But deep inside, she heard a voice, A truth that silenced every choice. The worst may come, or may not be, Fear thrives on possibilities. Each path she feared, she took instead, And battled beasts that filled with dread. The fears they whispered faded fast, For what she faced was not so vast. Each foe she met was strong, yet frail, The lies of fear began to pale. At last, she stood, the artifact in hand, The whispers gone, she made her stand. For fear had faltered, could not last, Its power broken, her trial passed. Fear thrives on what it cannot see, It paints the worst, though it may not be. The warrior smiled, her path made clear, She conquered not the maze, but fear. In life, we trust in fear’s design, Predicting struggles far too fine. But when we step through every gate, We find the challenge’s weight is late. For fear predicts the hardest blow, But strength is found in what we know. She left the maze, her spirit light, For fear, it thrives, but not in sight.
