Date: September 6, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
All writers write themselves as the heroes of their own stories. But there must always come a time to put down the pen. And put on the cape
In a quiet room, a writer sat, His mind alive, his body flat. He found a notebook, strange and old, With pages blank, yet stories bold. He scribbled tales, he wrote with might, Each word he penned, a spark of light. For every hero he designed, A piece of power he would find. At first, he played—his strength would grow, A sharpened mind, a mystic glow. He leapt from heights, he’d run with speed, His every wish, fulfilled with greed. But soon he tired of the game, The book still there, yet not the same. The world outside began to fade, And in his chair, he slowly stayed. He wrote for years, his strength untapped, His fingers danced, his body trapped. The pages full, his life stood still, A hero made, yet lacking will. One day, he paused and looked around, No battles fought, no honor found. The chair, a throne of idle days, Had led him far from hero’s ways. His hands once strong now felt like lead, He’d filled the book, but lived half-dead. With every word, he’d gained so much, Yet used it not, just dreamt of such. He stood at last, the pen laid down, No longer dreaming of renown. The world outside was calling still, A hero’s path, his fate to fill. For what’s a story without deed? A hero’s strength is forged by need. And though the chair was soft and kind, It dulled the heart, it numbed the mind. So now he moves, his power real, No longer bound by thoughts surreal. The time to act had come at last, His written days were in the past. He’d learned too late the chair’s deceit— The hero’s call begins with feet.
Date: September 5, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
It can’t be helped when dreams start crossing into reality to also have to face the occasional nightmare
In a village lost to time, a people slept, No dreams to stir them from the dark depths they kept. A curse on their blood, from ancestors' sin, No visions at night, no sparks from within. Their children grew slower, with minds bound tight, No colors to chase, no stars in sight. But one girl was different, she wandered alone, Into a forest where strange things were shown. There in the shadows, a creature did cry, Its leg trapped beneath a low-hanging sky. She freed it with care, and it scurried away, Leading her deep where no others would stray. She met a great master, ancient and wise, With stars in his beard and moons in his eyes. He handed her a necklace, gleaming and bright, "With this, you shall dream, both in day and in night." She put it around her, a shimmer took hold, Her dreamless sleep curse broke, as was foretold. At night, her mind danced in colors untold, But the dreams crossed over, both warm and cold. Her people watched in awe, as joy did bloom, But soon came shadows, darkened the room. Monsters from nightmares crept into the day, Twisting the world in their sinister way. "Why did this happen?" the village would cry, But the girl stood tall and gave this reply: "It can’t be helped when dreams cross the line, To face the nightmare is part of the climb." For every bright dream, a shadow must fall, Yet she faced them both, and she conquered them all. With every new vision, the world would reshape, But to live through the dream, you must bear the escape. In the end, they saw why the curse was first cast, For dreams bring great power but hardships that last. Yet through every struggle, the truth unfurled, Dreams are the only things that ever changed the world.
Date: September 4, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
What you do becomes what is possible
Within the deepest dream, where shadows play, There’s a world that awakens at the end of day. When sleep descends, familiar scenes unfold, A reflection of life in stories retold. In this dream, each soul wakes in their bed, A perfect copy, as if never led Beyond the walls of comfort and peace, Where reality and dreams never cease. Most wander close, near the known, Fearing how the dream has grown. For the further they go, the stranger it seems, A world that stretches the seams of dreams. But one dared step where others would not, Driven by a hunger that reality forgot. He ventured far, past the roads and skies, Where his form began to morph, to rise. His limbs grew long, his skin turned bright, A figure born from the dream’s deep night. Yet with this change, he found the key, A portal to minds, a new reality. He entered dreams, in shadows crept, Into the places where secrets slept. With just a touch, he knew their thoughts, The knowledge of others, the battles they fought. In waking hours, he carried this gain, The truths of dreams now part of his brain. What was once impossible, now stood tall, For he had stepped beyond the known wall. And with each step, each daring feat, The world of dreams bowed at his feet. What had been could no longer confine, For the unprecedented rewrites time. Within the deepest dream, reality waits, For those who dare to challenge fate. To break through the boundaries, to stretch what’s true, Is to create what’s possible, and make it new.
Date: September 3, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
Words are like Pokemon roaming the wild. Awaiting to be captured. The most valuable ones exist in the places that are hardest to reach
At the top of the world lies the rarest truth, A traveler set forth, driven by youth. He scaled the heights no soul had seen, Where clouds were thick and air was thin. Upon the peak, in silence deep, A creature stirred from ancient sleep. With eyes that glowed like molten flame, It rose and whispered, yet no name. They stood apart, a man and beast, But felt no fear, no urge to feast. Instead, a bond, unspoken, grew, As old as time, yet fresh and new. The traveler stayed, the mountain’s guest, His heart at peace, his mind at rest. He learned of worlds, both wild and wide, From the creature’s gaze, the earth untied. When time had passed and winds had changed, He left the peak, his life rearranged. But as he walked, the beast followed close, Their bond a tale the mountains boast. Through lands unknown, they journeyed far, From frozen fields to lands of scar. And every beast he met, they bowed, For in the creature, they were vowed. He saw in them the creature’s kin, Each one a part of where they’d been. Descendants of the one who roamed, The creatures of the world it owned. With every step, with every sight, New words would rise, so pure, so bright. For in the heights, where none would go, The rarest thoughts begin to flow. He learned that wisdom, deep and true, Is earned through deeds that few pursue. Like words that wait in hidden lands, They come to those with daring hands. And so he knew, as few have learned, That treasures found are always earned. At the top of the world, the rarest knowledge lies, For those who climb, who touch the skies.
Date: September 2, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
Obsess hard enough and build your way back long enough and you will beat the rematch against any challenge. Inigo Montoya does not lose to the 6 fingered man
In a village once pure, by the edge of the land, A boy stood tall with bow in hand, But shadows loomed, as a villain came, Wielding magic and might, with no name or fame. His armor grew with every breath, A force of nature, a bringer of death, Yet in his eyes, a single flaw, A slit in the helmet, a narrow maw. The boy, an archer, the village’s pride, Took aim with courage, let the arrow glide, But fate was cruel, his mark was missed, And the village fell to the villain’s fist. With heart in pieces and spirit torn, He vowed to hunt from dusk till dawn, To train his hand, his sight, his skill, To forge a blade, to hone his will. Years rolled by, the boy became a man, Hunting the villain, perfecting his plan, Through forests deep and mountains steep, He traveled far, with little sleep. His arrows now flew straight and true, His blade was sharp, his courage grew, For in his heart, he knew the way, To face the beast and make him pay. The final day, the rematch set, The hunter found where the villain slept, With steady hand, he drew his bow, The target clear, the arrow’s glow. No fear, no doubt, his aim was keen, For time had forged a warrior lean, The arrow flew, the eye was struck, And with it fell the beast of luck. The hunt was long, the journey hard, But every scar became his guard, For time and toil had made him strong, In the rematch, he could not be wrong. The village was gone, but peace was found, As the hunter stood on sacred ground, His blade now sheathed, his heart now free, For the hunt had honed the man to be. A hunt must be long enough, they say, To hone the hunter and his blade each day, And when the challenge returns once more, You’ll find the strength to even the score.
Date: September 1, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
Every day the dark goes unchallenged it grows
In a quiet place, where no one could see, A woman locked her heart, safe as could be. She built walls so high, so thick and so strong, To keep out the world and all that was wrong. But one day, a seed found its way inside, A tiny dark speck she chose to let slide. It nestled in deep, in her chamber so still, And day by day, it bent to its will. She visited often, but always delayed, To root out the darkness, she felt too afraid. "I'll deal with it soon," she whispered each time, Unaware it was spreading, a slow creeping vine. The seed became roots, then branches, then more, A tree of pure shadow, her heart it devoured. It grew so enormous, beyond her control, Till darkness consumed her body and soul. Her deeds turned to evil, her thoughts to despair, She harmed and destroyed, she no longer cared. Caught in her actions, judgment was swift, And as flames took her, the tree burned with it. But from her ashes, the seeds spread anew, To hearts unguarded, to the many, to the few. Each one faced the choice, the same as her own, To challenge the dark, or let it overgrown. For every day the dark goes unchallenged, it thrives, It gains in momentum, takes hold of our lives. So when shadows arise, don’t let them take root, For small seeds of darkness can grow absolute. Thus, in our inner most chamber, beware what we sow, For darkness at times, without check, can grow.
Date: August 31, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
Courage leaks from one area of your life to all others like an overflowing pot of liquid gold
In a land where shadows loom and monsters roam, A knight arose, with steel as her home. Her armor shone, but not with gold, For courage was needed, the stories told. She ventured forth, her heart so bold, But fear was a specter, icy and cold. Yet, with each challenge, her courage grew, And in her armor, changes ensued. Her helmet first, in thought profound, Turned to gold when wisdom was found. For in her mind, she faced her fears, And in that moment, her path was clear. A monstrous swing came her way, But her gauntlet held strong, kept danger at bay. As she blocked, her courage shone bright, Her gauntlet turned gold, a testament to her might. Love was a battle, her heart on the line, But she stood firm, letting courage define. Her breastplate turned gold, as love she embraced, No longer afraid, her fears were erased. In the heat of battle, an enemy fell, But she spared his life, broke fear’s spell. Her sword turned gold, mercy her guide, For courage in compassion cannot be denied. But the true test came, not with blade or hand, It was in standing her ground, where others would have ran. The monsters that chased her, feared not her might, But her steadfast courage, that turned boots to light. Again and again, she stood her ground, In battle, in love, in thoughts so profound. And as she practiced, her courage overflowed, Like liquid gold, through her life it flowed. Her armor of steel, now golden and bright, Oozed with courage, a wondrous sight. For in every land she dared to stand, She conquered all, with courage at hand. For courage leaks, from one life to another, In battle, in love, in thoughts like no other. Stand your ground, and you will see, With courage, you’ll conquer any land, any sea.
Date: August 30, 2024
painting (nadav_rock_2)
The Heat Is No Threat To Those Born In Fire
In a land where forests flourished, green and vast, There roamed a being with a shadow long cast. A Destroyer of Woods, with flames in his stride, He set trees ablaze, with nowhere to hide. From roots to the leaves, he consumed their might, Absorbing their life force, turning day into night. With each forest devoured, his power grew bold, A relentless inferno, both merciless and cold. His strength swelled within, his hunger unfed, Till at last, he erupted, as the earth bled. He settled and morphed, into a twisted expanse, A forest of falling trees in a deadly dance. The warriors came, with courage untamed, To challenge the fire, their spirits inflamed. But the heat was too fierce, the blaze too grand, Not one could endure the scorching land. No hero survived, no champion prevailed, Each journey to the center, tragically derailed. Until a child was born, with a soul like flame, Immune to the fire, he had no name. With skin like embers, and a heart of pure light, He ventured forth into the endless night. Through the burning woods, he walked with grace, Untouched by the flames, not a mark on his face. He reached the center where the Destroyer lay, A titan of fire, in his deadly array. The child, undaunted, with a gaze so clear, Confronted the beast, showing no fear. For he was born in the fire, bred in the blaze, The heat was no threat, it set him ablaze. With a single touch, the Destroyer knew, The child was his match, his strength grew anew. But rather than battle, they merged as one, The forest reborn, under a gentler sun. The trees stood tall, though the fire remained, A balance was struck, and peace was gained. For the heat is no threat to those born in flame, The child had saved the world, without seeking fame. In the heart of destruction, a new life was sown, A world once threatened, now peacefully grown. And so the legend lives, in whispers and lore, Of the child of fire, and the forest of yore. A tale of balance, of power contained, Where fire and life forever remained.
Date: August 30, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
Show me the edge and I’ll show you the money. The rest is survivor’s bias
Under the moon’s silver glow so bright, There stood a warrior, poised for the fight, His blade drank deeply from the lunar light, Making him invincible, a force of might. Others came, with weapons in hand, Blessed by charlatans from across the land, Amulets that promised power untold, Stories of triumph, of courage bold. The battlefield swelled with myths and lies, Each warrior certain they’d claim the prize, But as the night wore on, few remained, The truth of their strength was finally explained. One by one, the legends fell, Their tales unraveling, an empty shell, For the power they boasted was never real, Just superstition’s fleeting appeal. But there was one, who knew the truth, Who wielded his sword with hardened proof, Not swayed by stories or crafted lore, His edge was honed in logic’s core. The last opponent stood, their face pale, Knowing the fight was destined to fail, For in the moon’s glow, it was plain to see, That victory belonged to reality. Superstition makes for a dull blade, In the end, it was just a masquerade, The edge belongs to those who know, That truth is the only path to grow. The warrior’s triumph was no surprise, His strength lay not in luck or lies, But in understanding, clear and true, That the moon’s power was his to imbue. And as the battle faded with the night, The lesson was simple, in clear sight, Show me the edge, I’ll show you the gain, The rest is just the victor’s refrain. For someone always had to win the game, But it wasn’t luck, nor was it fame, It was the one who knew the way, That turned the tide and won the day.
Date: August 29, 2024
Random Thoughts (nadav_rock_2)
All too often what the majority deems as fixed I deem as broken. What they deem as broken I deem as empowered
In a land where curses linger deep, A man was marked with fate to keep, His flesh to wood, his soul to fade, Yet in this curse, his path was laid. Each dawn he chose what parts to lose, No time to mourn, no time to choose, His fears first went, then doubts and pain, With every loss, he broke a chain. Addictions next, temptations strong, He shed them all, it didn't take long, As wood replaced his mortal skin, A power grew from deep within. The world around began to shrink, Day by day on the very brink, Of folding in, collapsing whole, But he, now pure, sought to control. He stood alone, a wooden frame, Yet more alive, more free from blame, For what he lost was never true, A life deceived by every view. The world had deemed him broken, lost, But he saw strength in every cost, What they called weak, he called his might, What they called dark, he saw as light. He used his power, pure and wise, To halt the curse, to lift the skies, And as the world began to heal, He showed them all what’s truly real. For in the curse, he found his way, Where others feared, he saw the day, And as the man of wood now stood, He proved that broken is misunderstood. In every curse, a silver lining, In every loss, a chance for shining, For what the world calls strong and good, He proved was nothing as it should. So when they tell you what is right, Remember him, the man of might, Who lost it all, yet gained it more, And found in wood, his truest core.
