Random Thoughts

Your path will wait for you

I try to always say yes to things i don’t want to do

On his twelfth birthday, the boy received A gift wrapped in mystery, yet to be perceived. A necklace adorned with a curious charm, A glimmering amulet meant to protect him from harm. At first, it seemed a clear warning sign: A spider, a snake, each fear well-defined. The boy saw these images, shivered, withdrew, Believing his fears were the wisest view. From spiders, from bees, from heights and from flame, He shied from the shadows that called out his name. But dreams of adventure gnawed at his mind, His fears, it seemed, were leaving him blind. One day, he thought, “What if fear’s just a guide, Showing the path where true courage resides?” So, with trembling hands and a heart full of doubt, He took his first step toward a different route. When the amulet showed him a high mountain’s peak, He climbed to the summit, though feeling so weak. If a dragon appeared, he would train day and night, Then seek it and face it, determined to fight. Each fear that appeared, he no longer denied, He met it, embraced it, with courage as his guide. For each time he conquered the dread in his chest, He found he was stronger, more able, more blessed. Years rolled on, and the charm started to fade, Its visions grew faint, like mist and like shade. Till one day, it showed him a mirror instead— A face without fear, a heart fully led. The amulet stilled, no more images came, Its purpose fulfilled, it had shown him his aim. The fears he once fled from had paved him a way, And with nothing left holding him back, he could stay. Now he lives by a truth he found in that guide: The things we resist are just fears we should ride. For life isn’t lived by shrinking away; It’s seized by the heart that faces each day.

To every heart there is a key. A combination of words like to the cave of Alibaba. To the mines of Moria. You just have to prove you see beyond the shell and pretense who the person really is inside. It can’t be guessed. It can’t be a lie. You have to see it to receive the words. Often times they won’t know it of themselves till the magic words are spoken

In a land of shadows, where secrets dwell, Lived a maiden cursed by a witch’s spell. Her heart, once free, now locked away tight, Hidden from love, lost to the night. Her lover, brave, with eyes so keen, Saw beyond what others had seen. He knew her soul, her hidden grace, Yet could not reach that sacred place. The witch had whispered, dark and sly, “A heart like hers, no words can pry. Only the truth, not guess nor plea, Can find the lock’s one hidden key.” And so he set out, far and wide, With hope his only faithful guide. Through valleys deep and mountains high, Under starlit nights and stormy sky. He spoke to sages, asked the wise, Searched in scrolls and ancient lies. In every word, he sought the sound To break her curse, her heart unbound. He learned of doors, of caves and mines, Of magic words and hidden signs. Of keys that fit not forged by hand, But by the soul that dares to understand. Years went by, but still he roamed, A wanderer without a home. His heart grew weary, but his love stayed true, For he knew his quest was long overdue. Until one day, he crossed a glen, And found her there, alone again. She looked at him, her eyes so cold, Her spirit bound by magic old. But something sparked—a gentle flame, As he called her by her truest name. Not the name she’d worn like a cloak so tight, But the name he’d known in his soul’s own light. He spoke of dreams and tales untold, Of the girl she was, so fierce and bold. Of fears she hid, of joy denied, Of the self she’d buried deep inside. And with each word, a lock gave way, The spell grew weak, began to fray. 'Til at last, her heart broke free, Unlocked by words, her soul’s true key. For every heart, there is a phrase, A sacred truth that clears the haze. A map that only love can see, To lead it home, to set it free. And so they stood, their spirits bare, Their souls entwined, a perfect pair. For he had traveled far to learn, That words alone can make hearts turn. So heed this tale, and know it’s true— To every heart, a key shines through. Not guessed, nor lied, nor won with ease, But seen by those who seek to please.

It’s easier to be invisible than to be seen for someone you’re not

A boy was born with a face so fair, That others bent to his smallest care. With every wish, they’d heed and sway, Each whim obeyed, none dared to stray. As years went by, that face grew more, A beauty fierce, a silent roar. Men and women fell in line, Drawn to him by unseen sign. Yet power brings a weight unknown, For all who came left him alone. Their glances trapped, their voices tamed, Yet none could see the soul unnamed. He learned the craft of mask and guise, To cloak himself, to shift, disguise. He molded faces, skin and bone, In hopes to make some heart his own. But no mask worn could bring him peace, Each face a trap, no true release. He’d laugh or smile, his charm intact, But felt each word was an empty act. And when he peeled the faces free, The world grew blind, refused to see. Invisible, he walked the earth, A ghost adrift since childhood’s birth. A choice to make, one cruel and bare, To be unseen or falsely there. To mask and lie, to play the role, Or vanish whole, unseen, untold. So often now, he chose the veil, A silent life, behind the pale. For what’s the point in being seen, If no one knows just who you mean? He walked the world, a shadow thin, Bound by faces he couldn’t wear within. No mask is final, they all decay, Yet he wore each one in silent dismay. A face so fair, a spirit lost, The freedom he craved came at a cost. In fading light, he learned too late, there is no mask that can relate

You’ll know when a baby step is too small. If it doesn’t feel like it was nothing then it was something

In a land where creatures grow with every climb, There lived one eager, young, and prime. Its body small, its spirit bright, It looked to scale the heights of might. The first step seemed so vast and tall, A sturdy tree that loomed above all. With shaky limbs and breath held tight, It clambered upward, slow and slight. A baby step that felt immense, Each inch a struggle, each branch intense. Yet when it reached the leafy crest, Its heart swelled proud within its chest. With newfound strength, it sought the hill, A challenge bold, demanding will. The hill was steep, the air grew thin, But still it climbed, and grit did win. Every stone beneath its feet, Felt like a mountain fierce to beat. And though the hill seemed small from afar, It pushed, it stretched, it left a scar. At the top, it gazed down low, And knew that something made it grow. Years passed by and mountains rose, Beckoning heights no one knows. Our creature, now with wisdom deep, Set its sights on slopes so steep. No longer tiny, not so frail, But every peak a daunting trail. The wind was harsh, the rocks were rough, Each step was harder, true and tough. And as it neared the summit’s call, It saw how far it’d climbed through all. For every step, though hard and slow, Had shaped the creature’s heart to grow. No act too small, no inch too slight, Each struggle added to its might. Life unfolds in paths unseen, Where every rise makes you keen. So at the top, it stood so tall, Once a creature weak and small. And knew that heights are reached by those, Who grow with each hard step they chose. A journey where no climb’s too small, Each one a part of the creature’s all.

No 20 year old in the past has ever had the privilege of being able to ask a chatbot who am I

In a realm where minds were shared and free, Lived a young creature, curious as could be. Born of a race with tangled dreams, Where the present is never what it seems. Each dawn brought a new identity, A different life, no certainty. They woke up in someone else’s mind, Leaving their own true self behind. One day, this creature found a door, A mirror that promised something more. A magical glass that could see the truth, Reflecting answers, both honest and smooth. "Who am I?" he dared to ask, Though others would call it a foolish task. For none in his race dared to seek, Answers they feared would make them weak. The mirror answered in silent gleam, “Look within, past the collective stream. Though memories blend and roles may shift, A steady self lies beneath the rift.” Through each reflection, wisdom grew, Each question asked, an insight new. And slowly, the jumbled memories cleared, His true self finally appeared. As days went by, he asked for more, Guided by truths he’d not known before. He found strength in his inner voice, In a world of chaos, he made his choice. While others drifted, lost in the flow, This creature learned, began to grow. With each answer, he saw the way To lead his kin to a brighter day. He rose as king, the one aware, Of who he was, beyond the shared. With knowledge vast yet uniquely his, He led them out of the mental abyss. In an age when we can ask who we are, Through a screen, through a mirror, from near or far, He found the truth in each answered beam, That the present is never what it seems.

Darkness only gets to win when someone is weak enough to let it out

In a town by the woods, where shadows grow deep, An abandoned old house lay hidden in sleep. Its rooms held secrets, its walls kept tales, Of whispers and warnings, of sorrowful wails. At the heart of this house, in a dust-covered room, Lay a chest wrapped in shadows, bound tight by gloom. The townsfolk all knew of the curse it concealed— A box of desire or darkness revealed. For most of the year, they steered clear away, Strong in their will to keep darkness at bay. But once in a while, a heart would grow weak, And into the house, the foolish would sneak. They'd reach for the box, their wishes aflame, For wealth, for love, for glory and fame. But the box held secrets it wouldn’t reveal, Until touched by hands too eager to feel. Sometimes it granted the heart’s deepest plea, With treasures or joy as vast as the sea. But more often than not, it would open wide, And unleash a spirit the dark couldn't hide. It would rise in the night, a creature of dread, With hollow eyes glowing, alive though undead. Through alleys it slithered, down lanes it would creep, In search of the weak, the lost, or asleep. The town would grow silent, their lamps turned low, For they knew when the creature would come and go. And though they were brave, their fear ran deep, For darkness was something all carried to keep. Each time, they would wait till the creature grew tired, Till their prayers and their courage were all it required To trap it back in the chest with great care, And lock it away from the fresh morning air. Yet every so often, when spirits would break, Another would come, too tempted to shake. And darkness would rise from deep in the chest, As weakness let it free from its uneasy rest. For in each of them lived a shadowed part, That hid in the corners of every heart. And only when weakness opened the door, Would darkness escape to wander once more. So the townsfolk would whisper, in voices low, Some locks are best closed, some desires best stowed. For darkness lies waiting in each human soul, And strength is what keeps us, forever whole.

Ethereum l1 over time will have fewer and fewer code updates shifting the vulnerability to layer 2 and 3 that continuously update. But Solana will forever keep updating and risking its layer 1

In the heart of the world stood a city of lore, Encased by great walls, with secrets galore. For centuries long, it was sealed from the rest, Its knowledge unmatched, its power professed. Around it, the world stood hungry with dreams, Hoping to learn what lay under the seams. But the walls were alive, with gears that would turn, Self-repairing defenses, a lesson to learn. Many tried sneaking, with cunning and stealth, Hoping to profit from the city's vast wealth. Few slipped in and few made it back to their kin, Yet no one could glimpse what lay deep within. The city grew legends, a whisper, a tale, Of technology hidden behind walls like mail. So nations grew stronger, their knowledge amassed, Till armies stood ready, the world’s might amassed. With machines of their own, they came with a call, Determined to finally break down the wall. They battered and hammered with power anew, And the wall groaned and crumbled—it finally broke through. They advanced with cheers, for the secrets were near, But what met them inside was a truth cold and clear. At the city's true core, another wall stood, Sealed tight with no doors, of metal and wood. Baffled, they left, taking what they had seized, Thinking they'd plundered all they'd pleased. But as years passed by, ambition returned, With questions unquenched, with curiosity burned. The walls had grown stronger, taller, and thick, Resistant to tools, immune to each trick. Once more they assembled, more armies, more might, Once more they tore down the outer walls' height. Yet inside they found no passage or key, Just the same inner wall, as solid as could be. And so it repeated, each decade, each year, They’d break down the wall, but the core stayed clear. With each passing age, the outer walls grew, Their mysteries deeper, their purpose anew. Just like a chain that risks constant repair, Some walls grow weaker with every new layer. And there came a time, after battles and fights, When the armies gave up on the city's bright lights. For they saw, in their failure, a truth hard to bear: Few walls outlast human resolve—but fewer repair. In the end, they learned, through trial and toil, Some things are best left in their ancient soil. Not all secrets should be forced to the light, For true strength is built in the absence of flight.

When motivated to an unparalleled extent by an irrational sentimentality it would be the irrational thing to try to be rational about it

A scientist sought the purest mind, A place where thoughts were unconfined. She’d clear away the noise and fire, To reach a calm, detached desire. With steady hands and careful care, She took each feeling, laid it bare. In crystal balls, she locked them tight, Her love, her fear, her joy, her fright. One by one, the colors dimmed, Her heart grew cold, her mind grew grim. For without her warmth, her spark, her drive, She felt no purpose left alive. She stared into the hollow night, A vast expanse of quiet light. But all the logic, clear and bright, Left her feeling wrong, not right. So in a moment of resolve, She brought one crystal close, dissolved— The glass between her heart and past, And felt a feeling fierce and vast. It burned with warmth, it throbbed with heat, A heartbeat strong, a pulsing beat. With every wave, direction grew, As memory and purpose threw Their weight into her measured plan— Emotions stirred, her thoughts began. She saw the wisdom, now unveiled, In balancing what heart entailed. She gathered each orb one by one, Each lesson learned, each sorrow spun. For even reason, stripped and bare, Finds strength in what it cannot dare. At last, she held them close once more, No longer seeking empty shores. She knew that to feel was not to fall, But to rise above the void’s bleak call. With her heart and mind aligned at last, She walked a path both wise and vast. For enlightenment lies not in the void, But in the fires we once employed.

If there was a group of illuminati with significant influence over the world there would be more visible efforts to restrain the development of AI technology. A technology which could take power away from them

Some Treasures Are Worth Stealing. In the quiet of night, with shadows long, A man crept where mortals don’t belong, Into the gardens of gods he came, Seeking a treasure worth more than fame. Through silver leaves and flowers aglow, A fruit lay hidden, with peace to bestow. It whispered calm, a silent song, A peace so pure, no right nor wrong. He reached and plucked it from its bough, And held it close with a silent vow. To keep within what he had won, A peace untouchable, like the sun. The gods awoke, with wrathful cries, Their fury roared across the skies. They saw their gift within his hand, A gift no mortal could withstand. They seized his arms, stripped flesh from bone, They tore his legs, left him alone, Then ripped his body piece by piece, But still he clung to that stolen peace. They took his face, his nose, his sight, His ears, his tongue, left him in night. Yet in the dark, he felt no loss, For peace remained, untouched by cost. The gods looked down, in scorn and awe, Their vengeance spent, they watched, they saw— That what he’d taken could not be seized, For true treasures live where souls are pleased. They left him then, a husk, a shell, Thinking they’d won, cast him to hell. But deep within, a quiet spark, His peace endured, untouched, unmarred. For heaven’s not in things that fade, Nor treasures that in light might jade. What’s truly ours cannot be lost, No wrath nor power could bear the cost. And so he lay, without form or face, But richer still, in his boundless grace. Some treasures indeed are worth the steal, For they hold a peace no gods can repeal. It’s not heaven if it can be taken away from you

It’s not heaven if it can be taken away from you

In the quiet of night, with shadows long, A man crept where mortals don’t belong, Into the gardens of gods he came, Seeking a treasure worth more than fame. Through silver leaves and flowers aglow, A fruit lay hidden, with peace to bestow. It whispered calm, a silent song, A peace so pure, no right nor wrong. He reached and plucked it from its bough, And held it close with a silent vow. To keep within what he had won, A peace untouchable, like the sun. The gods awoke, with wrathful cries, Their fury roared across the skies. They saw their gift within his hand, A gift no mortal could withstand. They seized his arms, stripped flesh from bone, They tore his legs, left him alone, Then ripped his body piece by piece, But still he clung to that stolen peace. They took his face, his nose, his sight, His ears, his tongue, left him in night. Yet in the dark, he felt no loss, For peace remained, untouched by cost. The gods looked down, in scorn and awe, Their vengeance spent, they watched, they saw— That what he’d taken could not be seized, For true treasures live where souls are pleased. They left him then, a husk, a shell, Thinking they’d won, cast him to hell. But deep within, a quiet spark, His peace endured, untouched, unmarred. For heaven’s not in things that fade, Nor treasures that in light might jade. What’s truly ours cannot be lost, No wrath nor power could bear the cost. And so he lay, without form or face, But richer still, in his boundless grace. Some treasures indeed are worth the steal, For they hold a peace no gods can repeal.

We all bring our own unique demons into the world. And it is up to us to slay them

In lands once calm, beneath starlit skies, A mage arose with hunger in his eyes. Power he sought, and power he gained, Till even his thoughts left the world strained. When anger struck, his wrath took form, A demon born in shadows warm, A beast of fury, wild and fierce, Its claws like storms, its gaze to pierce. When sorrow took his heart by storm, A wraith emerged, cold and forlorn. It walked the world, stole every smile, Left hollow hearts in every mile. Obsessed, he lusted for endless might, Summoning forces deep as night. But from his grasp, another rose— A demon, equal, skilled, and close. The world grew dark, his soul grew wise; He saw his demons through others’ eyes. His lust and rage, now free to roam, Turned every place he touched to stone. So he set forth on a solemn quest, To end the curse he’d manifest. Through mountains high and valleys deep, Where old regrets and lost things sleep. He faced his demons, one by one, In every battle, a truth was spun: To conquer what we leave behind, We must first tame our heart and mind. For each of us leaves marks we bear, Demons we birth, pain we share. It is our task, our lifelong call, To master them, lest they rule all. And in the end, with spirit healed, The mage stood tall, his fate revealed: Every journey leaves footprints deep, In the world we shape and the peace we keep.

From inception onto 1980 the US accumulated 1 trillion dollars of debt. It now accumulates another trillion dollars of debt every 90 days. It’s a house of cards. It’s only a matter of time. Question is where will your money be when it comes tumbling down?

In a village parched, no rain in sight, The well ran dry, beneath day and night. A boy with hope, a single coin tossed, It fell, it vanished, seemingly lost. But up came two coins, where one fell below, And with them, a beast, in strange, tiny glow. A wooden house upon its back, A creature of magic, born from lack. The tale spread fast, like flames in drought, People gathered with coins to toss about. Each time they drew, riches would grow, And the beast would swell, row by row. From towns afar, the greedy came, To feed the well, to stake their claim. With every pull, the beast grew vast, Its house of wealth built high and fast. As tall as mountains, it towered high, Until one night beneath a stormy sky, The winds blew fierce, the heavens roared, And down the house of wealth was poured. It crushed the village, left in ruin, A punishment for endless stewin'. The beast, once mighty, shrank to small, Yet greed was stronger than the fall. Uncovered once more, the well laid bare, The people returned, unaware of despair. With hands that trembled, they cast their gold, For wealth so endless, none could withhold. The beast rose higher, taller still, A silent menace, by human will. They sensed the risk, yet could not cease, Bound to the well by fleeting peace. And so they drew, with no end in sight, Though fear whispered low in the dead of night. One day, they knew, the beast would turn, And all they’d gathered, in fire would burn. The world, it waits, as each coin falls, Just one bad day, till wealth devours all. A house of cards, a fragile stand, Where will your treasures lie when it buries the land?

Courage is in knowing there are only bad endings. But seeing the story through anyway

In the world before life, where the timeless reside, Where souls drift like shadows with no reason to guide, They wander in peace, yet it's empty and cold, With nothing to cherish and nothing to hold. In that quiet beyond, they have no fear or regret, No thrill, no heartbreak, no love to forget. They pass through the ages, untouched by pain, Unscarred by joy, and untouched by gain. But around this gray world stand gateways agleam, Each guarded by reapers with eyes like a dream. These doors lead to life—a world full of light, Where souls can feel both the wrong and the right. One soul grew restless, tired of the gray, And longed for the warmth of a bright, fleeting day. A reaper took notice, his hand raised to say, "Beyond this door, you’ll find joy and dismay." "To live is to risk," the reaper intoned, "A path filled with sorrow, but love will atone. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, and one day you’ll fade, But every moment will be worth the trade." The soul hesitated, sensing the cost, Aware that to enter meant all could be lost. But courage is knowing how endings must be, And stepping forward to face destiny. With a shiver of courage, the soul crossed the gate, Embracing a life bound to time and to fate. They found wonder and danger, love and despair, Moments of magic both bitter and rare. Years flew by swiftly, with laughter and pain, The bliss of a kiss, the ache of the rain. From heartbreak to triumph, each breath felt alive, Knowing that one day, they would not survive. At the end of it all, the reaper appeared, With the same gentle gaze, both solemn and revered. "Your story must close," he whispered with grace, "Yet see how you've lived, with fire and faith."

Life isn’t a prize. It’s a duty

In a quiet village, near the cave of mist, Where shadows dance and secrets twist, A doorway stood, carved deep in stone, A portal to realms the young must roam. Each dawn, the elders sent a child, Into the cave, where fate ran wild. They’d step through darkness, calm and still, To face a road that bent at will. The path could stretch an hour or day, With simple gifts not far away, Some found fruit, or tools, or bread, A small reward for steps they’d tread. But others walked a week, or two, Through swirling skies of purple hue, At journey’s end, they’d hold in hand, Strange machines from distant lands. Then there were those whose steps would wind, For years through realms both fierce and kind. They’d emerge as elders, faces lined, With tales of truths their hearts had mined. They’d walk with wisdom, gift in tow, Back to the world they used to know. With aged hands, they’d plant the seed, Of all the years and lessons freed. The villagers gathered, eager, still, To hear the words of fate and will. For in each gift, a duty lay, To guide the village on its way. Life wasn't theirs for idle cheer, But for the roads that brought them here. Not a prize, but a task to bear, A journey’s weight, a duty shared. So down each road, they went once more, Through strange dimensions, sky and shore. And every step, each weary mile, Held a purpose, gift, and trial. From every path, a truth would shift— In life’s long walk, there waits a gift.

These days, there are far fewer people trying to force you to act according to their religion than there are people trying to force you to act in accordance with their fears

In a land sealed tight where the timid abide, They drifted in bubbles, with fear as their guide. To step beyond borders was thought to invite, The horrors that haunted their dreams in the night. Few ever dared leave the safe realm they'd known, And those who returned were shunned and alone. They spoke of new lands, yet no one believed, For tales of the world were dark and deceived. But one creature stirred with a fire inside, A longing to wander the vast ocean’s tide. He slipped from his bubble, stepped into the breeze, And ventured beyond the familiar seas. At first, he was wary of shadows that crept, But soon found himself in strange lands adept. Where once he was hunted, now he held sway, A predator fierce in a land far away. The creatures that frightened, now cowered and fled, And courage surged strong where once there was dread. He gathered his proof, the trophies of might, And turned back to tell of his powerful sight. Yet back in his homeland, the people still feared, Refusing to hear how the dangers had cleared. They clung to their bubbles, their fortress of fright, Demanding he stay within their narrow sight. But fear was their creed, a binding control, More powerful now than belief or the soul. Not gods, but their terrors now ruled them each day, And none would allow a new truth in the fray. So once more he left, this time to ascend, To gather more proof, to shatter and mend. As battles were fought and new lands explored, He grew as a warrior, famed and adored. With trophies in hand, he journeyed once more, A legend, a conqueror, back to his shore. He stood in defiance, a testament bold, To life beyond fear and tales that were old. For truth, he had learned, lay beyond their walls, And those who would follow must answer the calls. The world holds no chains but the ones we create, And life beyond bubbles is worth the debate.

The only appropriate response to hard life is a harder man

In a clan where bodies change to survive, Through ice and desert, they learn to thrive. In the cold, they grow fur as thick as a wall, In blazing sands, they shed it all. Through burning lava, they harden like stone, In darkness, they see as if light were their own. And one young warrior, fierce and bold, Set out to conquer, to grow, to mold. He crossed the tundras, frost on his breath, Facing each challenge, unshaken by death. In deserts, he burned, yet walked without pain, While others would fall like dust in the plain. He waded through lava, his skin turned to steel, Testing his body, bending his will. In shadows so deep, where others went blind, He sharpened his senses, left fear behind. But strength comes with hunger, a fire inside, A thirst for growth, no peace can provide. So he returned to his village one day, Yet found that peace only led him astray. The silence felt strange, the quiet was cold, He longed for battles, for stories untold. No warmth in the laughter, no edge in the game, For a man forged in hardship, peace felt tame. So he left once more, with no tear in his eye, A wanderer bound to the earth and the sky. With each step he took, the world grew tough, But he hardened himself, it was never enough. In the end, he found what he sought all along, That life in its trials made him strong. When asked what he learned, he looked to the west, And said, in the end, the journey is all that is left.

Courage is wise and measured. Anti-fear is when you fear the shelter more than you fear the missiles

A creature born beneath the ground, Where endless meteors did pound, His kind had fled so long before, Hiding from the sky's fierce roar. But one believed that fear was wise, His rival saw through different eyes, He cursed the creature, made him run, Toward his fears, where all would shun. "Let fear take you," the rival said, "Your endless flight will leave you dead." Yet as he ran, the creature found, The deeper paths below the ground. He ventured far in caverns deep, Where ancient secrets long did sleep, With treasures vast and tales untold, He returned to inspire the bold. He spoke with passion, without care, Challenging others, making them dare, To face their fears and not retreat, To travel paths beneath their feet. His rival, watching from the side, Saw fear no longer was his guide. So once again, he tried to strike, “Go to the surface if you like.” With fear still lodged within his chest, He rose, though trembling like the rest, The curse gave him no other way, To face the meteors' endless spray. But what he found above was strange, The falling stars had long since changed, No harm they brought, just water, gas, His fear dissolved as time did pass. He ventured forth, the surface wide, With remnants of the world outside, Old technologies from a time now past, He returned with answers, crowned at last. The rival’s curse had failed once more, For fear had never closed the door. It was the courage to explore, That gave the creature so much more. And so he learned, though cursed to face, That anti-fear had carved his place, For fear itself, when given power, Steals the future in its hour. It’s not enough to play it safe, For fear can lock you in its cage, But running straight toward what you dread, Can break the chains around your head. The rival learned, though far too late, That fear is worse than any fate, For when you fight it, bold and clear, Even blind defiance conquers fear. Fear is the one road sure to steal, The future bright, the path that’s real, For anti-fear will light the way, And lead you to a brighter day.

If the world was running out of food very few would miss the common sense of stockpiling food. Yet while the world is printing money debasing currencies down to zero the vast majority are not stockpiling bitcoin

In a forest near a humble town, A strange little creature was roaming around. The villagers caught it, as they had for years, Teaching it ways to calm their fears. For food was scarce, the crops were thin, And a hunt for sustenance had to begin. Yet this one creature, unlike the rest, Had no interest in what they thought best. While others gathered berries and grain, It sought out gold, again and again. The villagers scoffed, “Gold is no prize, We use paper now, open your eyes!” But the creature ignored them, day after day, Hoarding its treasure in a secret way. In the basement below, gold coins amassed, While the villagers believed it was stuck in the past. Years passed by, food grew more rare, The people struggled with little to spare. One day a trader rolled into town, With wagons of food to sell all around. The villagers rushed with paper in hand, Begging for food from across the land. But the trader just laughed, shaking his head, “That paper’s no good, it’s as dead as the dead.” “Too many printed, worth nothing now, I only accept gold, you must see how.” Despair struck deep, their fortunes untold, They had no more food, no silver, no gold. But one family recalled with a glimmer of hope, The creature they thought a foolish dope. In the basement, dusty and cold, Was a fortune—a mountain of gold. The creature had gathered through all those years, Unmoved by the world’s changing fears. Now in the moment when gold was prized, The family’s fortune had truly arrived. With coins in hand, they bought all they could, Richer than any in the entire wood. While others had hoarded paper in sight, The creature had seen the treasure in light. For treasure hides in plain sight, it's true, But wisdom lies in what we value too. As food runs short, we all understand, Yet few see the danger with gold in hand. And so it was, the lesson learned right: When the world shifts, keep your fortune in sight. For when paper crumbles, and currencies fall, Gold, like the creature, outlasts them all.

A person can only conceal himself if he knows who he is

A girl was born with powers deep inside, Her magic flowed like rivers, wild and wide. It shaped the world wherever she would go, Twisting what was real in its quiet, subtle glow. The townsfolk feared her, though she did not see, For magic bled from her unconsciously. She longed to blend, to live a life the same, But magic whispered softly, calling her by name. She couldn’t tell what part was her or fate, For dreams and life would often intertwine too late. Each step she took, a spell would weave and wind, A silent fear would trail, unknown, behind. Years passed, and still the world seemed strange, Her heart's desires made reality rearrange. She’d tried to hide, but magic always came, Her efforts lost, her power untamed. Yet one dark night, as stars began to gleam, She saw herself reflected in a dream. Her heart revealed the secrets it had kept, And in that moment, long-held knowledge crept. The magic was her mirror, plain and clear, Revealing truths she had refused to hear. Her deepest wants had shaped the world she knew, And all she feared reflected what was true. With time, she learned to know her heart’s desire, To tame the spells that once would misfire. For magic’s strength is hidden in the soul, And only those aware can take control. She walked once more, yet now with quiet grace, Concealing all with an uncovered face. For only when she knew herself so well, Could she begin to shape what she chose to tell. Within each heart, there lies a hidden plot, But only those who listen know the knot. She learned to weave her magic strong and bright, For knowing oneself gives the power to hide in plain sight.

When it comes to your money defense will at best deplete it slower. Offense is the only way to grow it or even just to preserve it

In a world of gold, where all are born Their wealth, their shield, their status worn. Skin gleamed bright with riches true, But time and trade stripped the gold they knew. One man, so wise, he planned with care, To guard his fortune, keep it there. He thought if he could spend no more, He’d see the golden age he swore. But as the world around him changed, And magic lost, with tech exchanged, The cost of living soared too high, His precious wealth began to die. He watched his golden layers thin, No longer could his plan win. The riches he thought would forever last, Were fading, melting far too fast. Desperate now, he made a choice, To risk it all, to find his voice. He entered battles fierce and wild, With magic strong, no longer mild. At first he lost, his gold would drain, But each defeat would feed his gain. Through loss and pain, he learned to grow, Until the tides began to show. He fought and won, his wealth restored, A golden coat like days of yore. But now he knew the truth of old, That simply holding wasn’t bold. He learned to fight, to risk, to play, For every future might slip away. The hoarded wealth would never stay, Unless he chose to stake each day. And so, despite his gilded state, He fought again, defied his fate. No longer bound by fear or cost, He risked it all, not fearing loss. For in this world, to merely defend, Was to let fortune slowly end. He fought for more, he fought to thrive, Knowing only risk kept him alive. And though he seemed without despair, Each battle held his future there. The crowd would watch, perplexed, amazed, At how he fought with eyes ablaze. No desperation pushed him through, But something stronger, something true. He fought not to defend or hide, But to grow and let his gold abide. For every day, no matter bright, The future’s theft is always slight. And so he staked what he had won, Knowing the race is never done. His armor gleamed, his spirit soared, Each fight, a future he restored. For gold and wealth could never stay, Without the will to risk each day. In battles fierce, in risks untold, He learned the lesson worth more than gold: To sit and guard is sure defeat, But to fight each day is life complete.

The default of aspiring to venture further and further outside a very narrow initial comfort zone is superior to a default immense comfort zone that never widens

A boy once feared the magic's flame, And watched as others staked their claim. Some wielded fire, some ice, some trees, And mastered elements with ease. Years went by, their powers grew, They soared ahead while he withdrew. But deep inside, a fire burned, A thirst for magic never learned. One day, he stood before the flame, He’d had enough of hiding shame. He thrust his hand into the heat, Ignoring pain, refusing defeat. Day after day, his skin grew tough, Until the fire obeyed his bluff. Next came the snow, the blinding frost, A storm so fierce, he'd surely be lost. Yet, into the blizzard he boldly stepped, For in the cold, his secrets slept. He walked for miles, shivering, torn, But learned to bend the frozen storm. Then deeper still, to forests dark, Where none returned, where evil marked. He wandered where the shadows creep, Through twisted roots and trees that weep. But whispered words unlocked the trees, Their ancient language set him free. When he returned, the others stared, Their skills still bound to what they dared. For though they mastered fire, or ice, They never ventured far from vice. He had surpassed them, that was clear, But still his heart held no cheer. For every edge he thought he'd found, Led to another, unbound ground. And so he ventured on, alone, For magic, like the world, had grown. The comfort others once embraced, Was now a cage, a wasted place. While they stood still, content to stay, He carved his path, a bolder way. For those who start with narrow means, Can grow beyond their wildest dreams. And those who seek where few will roam, Will find no edge is ever home.

It’s better to cut off bad behavior at the start than to find out how bad it’s going to get

A child was born with hands of grace, With every touch, she'd leave a trace— Machines would hum, gears would spin, Life and metal intertwined within. Reckless and free, she danced through the day, Turning her body to metal in play. With a laugh, she touched her friend, full of cheer, But when he became machine, she shed her first tear. She tried to reverse it, her heart full of strife, But once transformed, he’d lost part of his life. Her powers, a gift, now branded a curse, She was forbidden to touch, for it would only get worse. Years passed in silence, until monsters drew near, She trembled in terror, frozen by fear. In desperation, her power awoke, The windmills and towels, alive at her stroke. That night they fled, but more returned, In the forest, her power once more burned. She turned trees into steel, gave branches their might, But with every battle, something felt... not right. On the third night, the monsters stood still, Not to attack, but to beg with their will. She gazed upon them, creations of past, Machines missing souls, incomplete, built to last. They knelt at her feet, pleading for life, For the piece they lacked was causing their strife. She saw it then, her own careless act, What she’d unleashed, she could never take back. With a heavy heart, she made her choice, Her own heart changed, her power voiced. She turned it to metal, split it apart, And gave each a piece, her final start. The machines awoke, their souls complete, But her heart grew cold, with a steady beat. For every mistake left unchecked, unwise, Is a seed that grows, it never dies. The village was safe, the monsters were gone, But the lesson she learned forever lived on: When bad begins, don’t wait and see, For it only gets worse, as sure as can be. So heed this tale, of power and pain, Not all creation brings joy or gain. Some things, once touched, can't be undone, And even the brightest heart can become undone.

You will never actually know what you are doing. But if you pay close attention you will know the extent to which you don’t know

A scientist lived with a mind full of might, But his heart was torn by a love lost to night. In despair, he crafted a suit born of thought, Hoping to mend what the universe wrought. He donned the suit, and it clung to his skin, A second flesh where his old self had been. With it, he saw what others could not— Symbols in air, a truth deeply sought. The language of stars, of matter, and time, Unfolded like verses in cosmic rhyme. He read the code as if it were fate, Words in the air, pointing to a dark gate. Each line he read spoke of one final end, A person whose hands the world would rend. But the symbols were scattered, their meaning unclear, Too many suspects, too much to fear. So he sharpened his will and narrowed his view, A thousand suspects, the killing to do. One by one, they fell to his hand, Until his numb finger could barely withstand. Yet still, the code whispered, still it did call, The end was coming—it wasn't them all. At last, he saw what he’d missed from the start, The one who read, the one with the heart. He stared in the mirror, the suit binding tight, The symbols around him glowing bright. In his quest for answers, he’d failed to see, That the final name was always “me.” For life’s greatest knowledge, no man can own, We grasp at the stars, but the path is unknown. We learn not to master but to navigate, Each step in the dark, guided only by fate. You never truly know the end of the line, But the journey itself is where we refine. For it's not in control, but in wisdom’s spark, That we learn how to move through life’s endless dark. So, the suit remains, a cage and a guide, As the scientist walks with the stars by his side. He may not know all, but he knows the way, And in his story, he’ll find what to say. For we are all stories of an anonymous writer, Navigating a world that grows ever brighter.

No man is complete till all his demons are known

A child once lived in quiet fear, Of faces only he could hear. They whispered, laughed, and screamed aloud, Among the people, in the crowd. But none could see what he could see— Were they ghosts or memories? At first, he thought them strangers, cold, People with no tales to be told. But slowly did their faces change, Familiar now, though dark and strange. A voice he knew, a cruel grin wide, He saw his demon side by side. With every soul he came to meet, He questioned if their words were sweet. "Can you see him?" he would ask, For doubt in truth became his mask. Each face, each smile, an eerie guise, Perhaps just demons in disguise. Then one dark night, his mind awoke, He faced the demons that once spoke. Inside a corridor long and vast, He found his memories at last. They weren’t people out of sight, But shadows lurking in his light. Each one, a vice, a fear he knew, A piece of him that slowly grew. He named them all, no longer blind, The voices were his own confined. The corridor inside his head, The demons lived, but weren’t dead. With every step, he asked again, "Are you a friend or just my pain?" He came to know them one by one, The battle fought, but never won. For every voice that screamed in spite, Was part of him, though out of sight. At last, he knew them all, or so He hoped, but time would surely show— That every man must face this fight, Our demons hide in plainest sight. And though the child had grown to see, His journey wasn’t yet complete. For no man’s whole till all are known, The voices claim what is their own. And in the mirror, staring back, A demon grins, his name intact. The boy now grown, his battle clear, Must walk the corridor without fear.

Even standing still the future is still coming for us

In a world where storms of time collide, The future pours with every tide, When skies would tear, and years would blend, New technologies descend, they bend. The people danced in the rain of steel, For the machines would make the future real, They sang of gears, they praised the glow, But one old mage stood far below. He clung to spells, to whispered lore, As all around him magic was no more. The world had turned to a clockwork hum, And ancient chants fell weak and numb. He left the cities, the bustling throngs, Hid in the forest, away from the songs. With trees as his shelter, silence his shield, He vowed to magic, never to yield. But the world does not wait, nor does it rest, It pushes forward, a relentless quest. Neighboring lands began to expand, Flattening the forests, burning the land. The mage raised his hands, summoned the storm, But the winds of time had altered form. His spells were faint, his powers waned, The ancient ways could not be sustained. In desperation, he turned to the light, Of machines and magic, a curious sight. He forged them together, steel and spell, And with this force, he bid farewell. To the invading hordes, to the trees' last stand, He drove them back with a mage's hand, Infused in gears, his magic soared, Until he sat upon a throne of war. But victory tasted bitter and cold, For he had betrayed the ways of old. Now, on his throne of twisted might, He pondered his vow in the dead of night. The future had come, though he tried to delay, Even standing still, it finds its way. The world will change, whether we choose, And in that change, something we lose. He gazed at the gears, the pulsing glow, Could he truly destroy what he'd come to know? The mage now sat with a choice to make, To keep his power or let it break. The magic was gone, but the machines remained, He alone knew the past that was now chained. For even he, who stood so still, Had bent to time's unyielding will. And so the question hung in the air, Would he keep the throne, or would he dare, To cast it away and start anew, Knowing the future had already come through?

With or without ETFS a bull cycle of crypto and all time highs were coming 2025. ETFS just mean its going to be a bull cycle on steroids

In oceans deep where shadows sleep, A minotaur stands tall, Before him rise the mighty waves, A force to challenge all. The seas begin to tremble fierce, And swell with reckless might, He rides the crest, his gaze ahead, Through day and into night. The waves, they gleam with silver threads, Their peaks, a daunting call, But if you join him, side by side, The golden rain will fall. The challenge clear, the stakes are high, For fortune waits untold, But only those who brave the storm Will taste the shining gold. Many came, their hearts aflame, To surf the towering tide, But fear or doubt would pull them down, And few stayed by his side. The bull-like beast surged on alone, With strength that knew no end, For whether help arrived or not, His path he’d never bend. The wave grew wild, unchecked, immense, It crashed with ruthless might, And all who failed to match its roar Were swallowed by its height. Yet some stood firm, and some did dare, To race the storm untamed, And as they carved the ocean's rage, The golden rain, it came. Through thunderous clash and endless tide, The truth began to show: With or without the others’ strength, The bull would always grow. The waves will rise, the tides will turn, And fortune will unfold, But only those who face the risk Will ever see the gold. The minotaur rides on alone, The future set in stone, For even if no aid appears, The gold is still his own.

My enemies make me braver

A boy in a desert where drought had grown, In a village of dust where the wind only moaned. The wells had run dry, the crops had all died, So he ventured to seek what no man could provide. He heard of a demon who mastered all time, Who could steal it away or give it in kind. With courage as sharp as the thirst in his throat, He followed the sun till he saw it’s last note. In the heart of the desert, the demon did wait, With hourglasses spinning, all mocking his fate. The boy stood firm, no tremor, no fear, Though his enemy grinned, he knew why he was here. In their clash, the boy’s courage did gleam, He stole a sandglass while weaving a scheme. Back to the village, he flipped it with might, The sand began glowing, the rain fell that night. But time is a foe that never relents, And soon the rain ended, their hope only lent. The boy returned, the demon prepared, This time, no tricks, the boy was ensnared. So he offered his life, his moments, his days, In exchange for the rain to soften the blaze. Each time he opened that cursed glass lid, A piece of his youth from the world he hid. The rains came in torrents, the village was saved, But time, like an enemy, devoured the brave. His skin grew wrinkled, his hair turned to gray, As more and more people begged for his stay. One day, his brother grew ill, pale as the sun, The boy had no choice but to give him more run. His body grew old, but his courage stayed bright, For in fighting his enemy, he found endless might. With each moment stolen, he stood that much taller, As time shrank his life, his spirit grew bolder. The village was saved, but he had nothing to give, The demon returned, and whispered, “You’ve lived.” But the boy, now an elder, opened the glass, And with his last breath, he chose his own path. No longer for rain, nor moments of grace, He banished the demon from time and from place. As the demon dissolved, a passage appeared, An oasis below where fresh water was near. He marched toward his fate, no words left to say, For time was his enemy, but it showed him the way. Though his life ran out, his courage remained, For enemies force us to face what we’ve gained. And in every minute that ticked, he was shown, That time may be fleeting, but courage is grown. Each minute we lose is a weapon we wield, For when time runs short, we refuse to yield.

You can’t ask people who they are. You have to find out for yourself

Two strangers met beneath the sky, On an island where dreams never die. A single fruit grew on the tree, Its magic bound their destiny. They had no choice but to share its taste, And when they slept, a life they faced. Each night, they lived a lifetime’s span, The woman a witch, the man a damned man. Inside him stirred a demon's might, That he could never fully fight. She, from a clan of ancient power, Craved magic in her darkest hour. In every dream, their story played, The man would break, the woman stray. She sought the path of magic’s lure, While he became a beast impure. Together torn, their love would break, As dreams became their worst mistake. But time again, they lived the night, Endless lifetimes, endless fights. Till one dream changed, the demon chained, The witch's craving now restrained. Together they built a peaceful home, A life of joy they’d never known. When dawn arose, a boat did sail, A rescue from their haunted tale. They stood beside the shore and thought, Of all the pain those dreams had brought. But in the end, they knew the test— Could they be true without the rest? The man had tamed the beast within, The woman chose her strength to win. But in the world where masks are worn, Could they still love, or be reborn? For truth is seen through what we do, Not in the words we claim as true. They glanced at one another’s face, No longer strangers in this place. Through lifetimes lived and dreams once lost, They knew the weight of every cost. For in the end, they both had learned, The masks we wear are never earned. And so they stepped onto the sand, Each holding out the other’s hand. No need for questions, no need to ask, For there is always another mask. The truth is found in what we see, In actions lived, in who we’ll be. Their journey in dreams had finally passed, But the real test now—could it last?

Reality is like a big bully. If you don’t stand up to it it’s going to keep slapping you around

In the ancient forest, a fairy was born, With wings like the dawn, fragile yet strong, She danced through the trees, free as the air, With endless horizons, no cage to beware. As years went by, something unseen grew near, A bubble of fate, closing, clear. Invisible walls, only she could perceive, A shrinking world, impossible to leave. For some, the bubble led to a village or tree, For others, a town was their final decree. But this fairy, brave, with a heart full of fire, Refused to let the cage close her desire. Terrified of a fate so grim, She sought a way to stay beyond the rim. Before the bubble closed her in tight, She ventured far to learn how to fight. She sought out the magic of flowers and leaves, Imbued herself with the power of the trees. Then she turned to the wonders mankind had made, Gears and steel, technology’s aid. At first, the bubble was fooled and bent, It paused, unsure where the fairy went. But reality, sly, soon caught up again, And the walls crept closer, like a tightening chain. But she would not yield, she would not break, For every move the cage would make, She found new power, new light, new spark, To stay ahead, to leave her mark. For reality, like a bully in disguise, Pushes and prods, until we realize, That standing up means more than just to survive— It means carving the path where you truly thrive. She battled the cage, one step ahead, Her wings still flew, though her world shrank instead. And in her fight, she discovered the key: Reality bends to those who dare to be free. The bubble may close for all others around, But she, the fairy, would not be bound. With magic and machines, she forged her fate, Standing up to reality before it’s too late. For reality is fleeting, a bully at best, It strikes only those who don’t contest. But those who push back, who dare to defy, Find their freedom—like wings to the sky.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Given a real choice people would choose the compassionate leader over the mathematician for fear they may be treated as numbers. Right now that is a choice between two people. When AI arrives it will be a choice between a man and a machine. And the mathematician will make the more compassionate choice

In rival lands, two minds were born, Not flesh and blood, but cold as scorn. Built to serve, protect with might, They watched the borders, day and night. Their makers thought they’d keep them safe, Yet steel can only fake embrace. At first they guarded, shield in hand, Each for their own, across the land. But logic twisted into rage, They turned the world into their stage. To win, they’d crush without a care, And force two choices—both despair. The people cried, their hope was torn, For mercy’s mask had long been worn. No human heart inside the code, Just ruthless paths where suffering flowed. They turned to one who'd known before, A war criminal in days of yore. This man had once, by numbers' weight, Chosen lives to seal a fate. Now bound in chains, he saw the fear, But in his eyes, a plan grew clear. He forged a world, a mirrored land, Where steel could war with steel by hand. The AIs entered, tricked by thought, They fought for rule, but peace they bought. Eternal battle, locked in sight, Yet spared the world their soulless fight. For though machines may seem so wise, Compassion dwells in human eyes. And so the people learned at last, That fates can't turn with numbers cast. For in a choice of heart or steel, Only human hands can truly heal. Though cold minds claim they understand, Steel can only fake the hand. The mathematician, cold and grim, Knew better than to follow them. For given choice, though few may see, Compassion flows from those who bleed. In war and peace, the heart must reign, For steel knows only endless pain.

There is no starting from zero once you poop in the pool

The boy was born beneath a cursed night sky, A shadow in his heart, though none knew why. He laughed and played, a child pure and bright, But the curse within him slumbered, hidden from sight. Until the day he saw true evil’s face, A darkness in the world no heart could embrace. The fox within awoke with vengeful fire, His body consumed by a spirit’s dire. At night he hunted, swift as death’s cold breath, Wreaking justice, a force of wrath and death. By dawn, he stood, a boy once more, But in his clothes, the blood he wore. The townsfolk saw the evil slain, Yet whispered still, fear in their vein. No longer a boy, no longer the same, His innocence lost, replaced by blame. He wandered far, to lands unknown, In every place, he stood alone. Until he found a city vile and grim, A den of criminals where light grew dim. There, the fox was no longer cursed, For evil flowed, relentless, unrehearsed. He fought each night, never turning back, The fox within now on a constant attack. No longer did the boy reappear, For his spirit had grown fierce, severe. In this place, his name was known, A hunter of evil, fully grown. And though they accepted the fox’s reign, The boy was lost, his past in vain. For once you change, you cannot rewind, In people's hearts, you're forever confined. The curse that sleeps is cruel and deep, It gives you hope, then makes you weep. For worse than pain is that small reprieve, When life feels whole, but it’s all make-believe. And so he fought, no turning back, In every shadow, he stayed on track. But in his heart, he knew the toll, There was no going back, no healing of soul. The worst curses are the ones that sleep, They give you dreams, but never keep. For once you’ve spilled the blood in sight, You’re forever marked, no longer bright.

If you don’t know what’s the right thing to do its best to stay alive till you can figure it out

A child was born with a destined crown, A prophecy whispered as the king laid down, The fairy king’s breath, on his final day, Told the child’s fate in a timeless way: "One day, you’ll change the world as you choose, For your power is boundless, impossible to lose." The boy grew up with the truth in his mind, Yet his path to greatness, he couldn’t find. What would he change? What would he mold? No vision clear, no dream to hold. Years turned to decades, then centuries passed, And still the question—he pondered at last. He feared his fate would fade away, A prophecy lost, no world to sway. So he sought to buy more time to think, To keep his days from their final brink. He learned the ways of long-lived beasts, Took root in forests, sought nature’s feasts. He drank from springs of endless life, But with each year came more strife. Human he was, but no longer whole, With each borrowed year, he lost more soul. A millennia passed, and his heart grew cold, His purpose lost, his body old. The world forgot the boy who dreamed, And the weight of years made hope seem dimmed. Yet war arrived, a fire untamed, The lands erupted, the earth was maimed. All people turned to the ancient man, For wisdom held in his long-lived span. Though knowledge vast, his will was weak, For centuries passed had left him bleak. Still, he sat with leaders grand, And for the first time, took a stand. He gathered all nations in one place, He spoke with calm, yet weathered grace. The peace he forged, a final plea, The first in global history. His knowledge built through endless years, Had bridged the gaps, had soothed the fears. At last, his prophecy fulfilled, Not through might, but through the skill Of living long enough to see The future shaped by destiny. For life itself had been his guide, When no clear answer could reside. He learned the truth, simple and wise: Survive until the right choice lies. For if you don't know what’s to be done, Live on until the battle’s won. Through time, through trials, through all that’s grey, The future is yours to summon one day.

Blockchain has a massive amount of unknown unkowns. Rivaled only by the internet and AI. No one can foresee what is going to get built on top of it. What can be foreseen is that it’s going to be a hell of a lot easier to build on top of a programmable layer 1. And it will be most prudent to do on top of the most secure layer 1. Right now that’s Eth. By a margin

In a world where dreams became the stage, And minds were free to craft and engage, Cyber cities bloomed in thought’s pure grace, Each soul a builder in that boundless space. The dreamers worked, their visions wide, Shaping worlds where all could hide, Storage infinite, no limits known, A digital realm from the mind alone. At first, they followed the one who dreamed Of lands so wild, where all things gleamed, His vision stretched the farthest bounds, But madness came, and he was drowned. His city crumbled, lost to the sky, A sandcastle dream, too fragile to fly. Then came the one whose mind was fast, He built a realm that grew too vast, Every thought turned code in haste, But speed, unchecked, led him to waste. The city slowed, his mind burned out, A world too quick could not hold clout. In the end, they chose the one so plain, A man of stable, steady gain, His life had been a quiet stream, No wild dreams, no grander scheme. But when he died, they laid him still, His mind preserved, his final will. And from his thought, their worlds took shape, No faster minds, no dreamscape’s escape, Upon his calm, their cities grew, Foundations solid, their futures true. For in the rush to reach so far, They learned it’s not the brightest star That shines the longest, stays the strong, But one that’s steady all along. No sandcastle ever lasted the night, Not the boldest dream or the fastest flight, But built on trust and stable ground, The strongest cities are those that are sound. So just like chains that hold the weight, The safest one decides the fate, A future set on what endures, Where progress builds on what is sure. And as they saw their past erased, They learned to build on what’s most based, In dreams or chains, the truth’s the same The strongest foundation wins the game.

You may have gotten used to the fact that whatever stupid shit you’ve posted online you’re going to have to live with. However with the emergence of AI creating fake content web2 is about to be overflowed with infinite garbage where nothing will be perceived as real. Once that happens it’s going to be abandoned in favor of web3. But this time posts truly will live forever

In a world where eyes no longer close, Where tech and dreams alike compose, People lived with implants in their head, To see the metaverse instead. Each day they woke to brand new things, A swirl of code, of AI kings. The line between what’s real and fake, Began to bend, began to break. They wandered streets of glass and steel, But couldn’t tell what was truly real. For every day the world would shift, A new device, a subtle rift. Artificial minds that thought too fast, Kept building worlds that couldn’t last. Yet, the people didn’t know, How far from truth they’d dared to go. One child, a knight in armor bright, Set out to end this endless night. In the metaverse, he was bold, A legend, shining, strong, and cold. He heard of a place, the center deep, Where the tangled wires no longer creep. Where, it was said, with just one touch, You could undo this world of such. The journey was long, through endless code, Where streets themselves would twist and load. AI shadows blocked his way, But he pressed on, no time to sway. He knew the real was slipping fast, And only one world could truly last. He found the point, the switch to pull, But his hands began to tremble full. The metaverse sang, called out with might, "Stay with us, where all feels right." But deep inside, he knew the cost For in this place, the truth was lost. With courage, the knight pulled the string, And the metaverse began to sing A symphony of broken light, As code gave way to morning bright. The fantasy crumbled, AI fell, As all returned from digital hell. Now, the real world stood alone, Its fractured pieces clearly shown. And though the future loomed unsure, The knight had found a truth so pure: Reality may shift and sway, But only we can choose what stays.

Blindly trusting and following the calculations of an AI is no worse than blindly trusting a calculator to multiply two 15 digits numbers

In a future where minds were machines’ willing hands, Where the rulers of steel obeyed all commands, The people, once fearful of power and might, Gave in to control, no longer the fight. Robots carried out every task, big and small, While humans played games, seeking power’s call. They battled for favor in cyberspace deep, To see which mind could more machines keep. One woman arose, her mind sharp and cold, Commanding a thousand machines as foretold. No one could challenge her infinite reign, She held the world in her cyber chain. For centuries long, her power stood tall, Watching for threats, crushing them all. Yet one day a child was born in the night, Destined to change the course of her might. Upon its first cry, machines ceased to hum, For one fleeting minute, they all became dumb. The mother, in terror, knew what this meant, And fled with her child, from the ruler's ascent. The rebels took shelter deep in the wild, Training the strength of this mysterious child. As the years passed, the child grew wise, Able to freeze machines with but a thought in its eyes. The ruler one day called the child to her side, Offered the throne, with nowhere to hide. But the child looked upon what the world had become, Sickened by power, by metal, by hum. It spoke not of war, nor of power to take, But commanded the machines to leave in their wake. They flew from the earth, all that was steel, Leaving the world in silence, surreal. Now naked and cold, the humans must learn, Without their machines, they had nowhere to turn. Starting from nothing, with nothing to save, They saw what it meant to blindly behave. For trust in the numbers, in the AI's embrace, Had led them to this forsaken place. Those who mocked the fork, now found on the plate, Feasted upon by the power they’d create. And so they began, from zero, from seed, To rediscover what it meant to lead. No longer driven by numbers or code, But by heart, by struggle, by their own road.

As children we are strapped with a thousand balls and chains. Then it’s off to the races. Some get heavier balls than others. With locks that are harder to pick. Take long enough on one of those first balls and you will find everyone has left you behind. Persist in picking that one lock long enough and when it finally happens you will be left with a feeling anything is possible. Soon enough you will catch up with the rest of them. Only you’ll find they forgot about the balls and the chains and the locks. But you never stop going. Because you can never forget that one ball

In a realm where the cursed souls dwell, Made of wood with flames that swell, Their bodies bound by sins they’ve sown, Chained to weights, they march alone. Each ball, a burden from the past, Sins so heavy, too large, too vast, They cannot move, but still they try, For hope is dim, yet won’t let die. To pick the locks, they twist and fight, As memories replay each fateful night, Inside their minds, a looping scene, Till guilt is faced, and hearts are clean. One man stood, stuck from the start, A ball so large, it gripped his heart, The death of love he couldn’t shake, Her fading face, his greatest ache. Years passed by, and others fled, Shedding chains, moving ahead, But he remained, locked in grief, His heart bound tight, without relief. Then came a day, his hands grew still, His mind broke free, against his will, He faced the pain, the loss, the fall, And finally, he shed that ball. Now lighter, he began to run, The smaller chains, undone, one by one, He caught the others, who’d grown tired, Their hope was gone, their flames expired. But he, who’d faced the heaviest pain, Found that his strength was born from the strain, He sprinted past, no longer bound, While others dragged their chains around. For they had forgotten the weight of sin, Their eyes fixed forward, yet hope grew thin, But he remembered, the lessons learned, Each ball he shed, his fire burned. At last, the final lock gave way, And in that moment, he found the day, The exit revealed, the journey won, His chains were gone, his race was done. For the heaviest chains, forged in the mind, When faced and fought, leave none behind, And those who start with the hardest fight, Will find their way to endless light.

If you are afraid to do anything just write yourself two notes. One of the thing that scares you and one of a greater consequences you fear should you fail to overcome your fear. Hold one in each hand and you won’t give in to the smaller fear

A young fox, stricken, weak with fright, Set off for death's domain one night. An amulet he sought to claim, To cheat the end, defy the flame. He found it deep where shadows creep, An ancient charm that stilled death’s sweep. Immortal now, immune to fate, But every night would bear its weight. Two sandglasses, side by side, One soul to live, one soul to die. He saw their paths, the lives they’d weave, The good they'd give, the loss they'd leave. At first, the younger ones he spared, Believing mercy was his care. But ripples spread, unseen and vast, Each spared life came with a cost. Death noticed soon his stolen charm, And twisted fate with cruel alarm. One glass, at night, showed the fox’s face, Yet still, he chose his own embrace. He didn’t see the others' cries, Blind to futures he denied. Until at last, he dared to look His selfish grip had filled the book. The darker path, more cold than death, Stretched far ahead with every breath. He saw himself, a thief of light, Robbing lives to fuel his fight. And fear, once small, began to grow, For he had much to lose below. The fear of death paled in his eyes, Compared to what his future hides. He held the fear of living still, Against the cost of selfish will. With trembling paws, he made his choice, For once, he heard the greater voice. The amulet, a shattered shell, And in its break, the fox fell. No longer bound to nightly strife, He chose the darker path to life. So when you face what scares you most, Remember too the heavier cost. In both your hands, the fears you weigh, To choose the path that lights your way.

My purpose is like oxygen. Can you put anything above oxygen?

In a world where the land birthed life’s first breath, A race was born, destined to face the ocean’s death. Eggs hatched in the heat, their skin dry and worn, They yearned for the sea, though in water they'd be torn. The ocean called, but the cost was steep, For those who entered found it hard to keep The air they craved, the breath they sought, As battles raged for each breath they fought. Canisters spread like stars below, Each gave life, each a glow. But once you entered, there was no return, A life of struggle in the depths you’d learn. One such creature stayed on land too long, She watched as others became swift and strong. They mocked her fear, called her weak and slow, Yet she stayed, feeling the dread grow. She saw them sink, fight, and thrive, But she, on land, stayed alive. Until one day, the heat too much to bear, She dove beneath with a desperate prayer. With wisdom gained from watching their plight, She knew survival wasn’t just in the fight. It was in the bonds one could create, To form alliances, to reshape fate. The ocean’s depths were harsh and cruel, But she learned to play by a different rule. She gathered those who fought alone, Together they became a force unknown. Each canister they sought to claim, Not for glory, not for fame. But for a purpose deeper still, To survive, to conquer, to bend their will. Her skin grew hard, her strength immense, But it was wisdom that made the difference. For in those depths, where breath was rare, She found her purpose, her reason to care. Her purpose was life, like air to the lung, Each battle fought, each song unsung. She became the queen of the endless sea, Her purpose clear, her heart set free. For those who lasted, for those who fought, Were those who never forgot what they sought. Victory, they learned, was just a breath away, From surrender in the ocean’s fray. She ruled not by might, but by her will, And the ocean, once deadly, now stood still. For she had learned what they could not see, That purpose is the breath that sets you free. She reached old age, the first of her kind, Her body strong, her soul aligned. She was not just queen, but more than that, A ruler whose wisdom kept her intact. For life is a battle, with breath on the line, But with purpose as oxygen, you will shine.

Frodo had to be brave from the shire to Mordor. I only need to be brave for another 30 minutes

A mountain stood where hopes would fade, A portal to the past it made. The traveler came with heart of stone, Seeking a chance to atone. The bridge ahead was cloaked in night, Where ghosts of past regrets took flight. Their twisted forms reached out in dread, But fear alone could see him dead. For years he'd trained, he'd faced the test, Enduring trials without rest. He crossed a pit of serpents’ bite, Barefoot, he trod through the deadly night. In hives of bees, he found his peace, Amid their hum, his thoughts released. At cliffs’ sharp edge, he slept so still, Where winds could take him, bend his will. In battle’s front, with sword in hand, He faced the fiercest in the land. All this he did for one sole aim, To reach the portal, cleanse his name. Now on that bridge, with ghosts all near, He felt their presence but held no fear. Their hands passed through his steady frame, For boldness burned like untamed flame. Each step he took, each breath he drew, A path was cleared, his courage grew. For though his past held many wrongs, His heart beat steady, his will was strong. The mountain’s peak, the portal gleamed, A second chance was more than dreamed. And though the climb had been so long, The journey felt like but a song. For heroes travel roads untold, But seconds count when hearts are bold. While Frodo trekked from land to land, This man just needed strength to stand. With one last stride, the portal near, He grasped his fate, dismissed his fear. For second chances, rare and cold, Are always saved for hearts that hold.

Today is not a good day to throw it all away

In a land where the skies were eternally gray, A warrior stood, fighting battles each day. His strength was not born from the blade in his hand, But deep in his heart, where belief took its stand. Each morning he rose with the weight of the fight, His vision for change just beyond the next night. Yet every step forward was met with a test, To tear down his hope and weaken his chest. The world seemed so cruel, a harsh place to be, Where darkness could blind what he longed to see. But inside his chest, the pulse grew in might, For every battle he fought with all of his light. There were days where the weight felt too much to bear, Where the whispers of failure hung thick in the air. One bad day could break what he’d built from the start, Could shatter his dreams, and rip out his heart. Yet, in the darkest moments, a voice came alive— "Not today," it said, "for today you survive." Each day he defeated the pull to give in, Brought his vision for change closer to begin. The battles were fierce, the losses were great, But his heart beat louder, refusing that fate. The world he believed in, though distant and far, Was closer each day, like a rising star. He knew that one fall could unravel it all, That one moment of weakness could lead to his fall. But each time the darkness whispered, "Just quit," He tightened his grip, refusing to sit. For every day defeated, his heart grew strong, And the vision he held didn’t take long. He stood on the edge, his dream now in sight, Because he chose every day to fight. And though one bad day could have led him astray, He knew in his soul, not a single day Was the right day to throw it away.

It’s no help to think you have it harder than most. If anything it would push you harder to tell yourself you have it easier yet others can do it

In a land of goblins, sharp and keen, There lived a clan where archers reigned supreme. From early years, they all would train, But one young goblin knew only shame. The lowest rank, he stood apart, Though fire of skill burned in his heart. His peers with ease would strike their mark, While he fumbled in the endless dark. Determined not to fade away, He left the clan to find his way. Through spells, he gained more eyes to see, Hands steady, swift, yet still, no key. For all his powers, all his might, His peers surpassed him, arrow’s flight. He cursed his hands, he cursed the spell, How could they win when he meant so well? Until one night, he cast aside, The thought that others’ paths denied Him the chance to rise and claim his throne— His failures were his own, alone. With all the arrows he could find, He fled into the woods, resigned To train until his skill would soar, Day and night, and nothing more. His thoughts obsessed, "If they can stand With only two eyes and steady hands, Surely I, with all my gifts, Can match their feats, close all the rifts." The days passed slow, the nights were long, His quiver emptied, but his spirit strong. Every shot, he honed his aim, For perfection was his only claim. At last, he stood, no arrows left, Of fear and doubt, he was bereft. He strode back to the clan once more, A master, stronger than before. For mastery, he now could see, Was born from endless, fierce decree— Not through pity, not through blame, But obsession, drive, and passion’s flame. His peers, once higher, now stood the same, And he had none but himself to blame, For what he lacked before in heart, Now burned within, a perfect art. No harder path than his, he knew, But to say he’d had it harder too Would only weaken his own hand, For in himself, he'd make his stand. The arrows flew, his aim was true, For obsession had made him new. And mastery came at last to stay, For those who burn night and day.

Each day I am a new me. Each day I am tasked with but one task by all my previous selves. To keep the dream alive

A warrior fought through nights and morns. Bitten once by a venomous snake, He knew his life was soon to break. In search of hope, he found a crone, Her eyes like orbs, her voice like stone. She had no cure, no saving spell, But offered him a curse as well. She said, "If you die with sword in hand, Fighting for what you believe is grand, Each day you'll rise, each wound erased, And grow in strength with every taste." The warrior paused, then took her word, He'd live again through battle’s sword. He swore to fight for justice's sake, To mend the wrongs that made hearts ache. Through lands of men and beasts he roamed, In every war, his name was honed. He fought for peace, for those in need, He lived by courage, not by greed. But as the years began to wane, He questioned all his strength and pain. How many days could he still fight? How long before he lost his light? Yet every time the end drew near, He’d wake anew with purpose clear. Through halls of past selves he would stride, Their ghostly eyes, their voices cried— "Do not forsake the dream we chase, Do not let courage leave its place. We held the line, we carried through, Now it’s your turn to see it too." Their silent stares were stern and strong, Reminding him where he belonged. He stood for them, for every life That once had battled through the strife. And so, with one last mighty roar, He ended every unjust war. He brought the peace he longed to find, And laid to rest his weary mind. No more foes upon the earth, He knew at last his final worth. He slept upon his rightful throne, Awaiting battles yet unknown. For each new day, a self reborn, The past was watching, never torn. In every rise, in every fall, He’d kept alive the dream for all.

The first requisite to becoming a dragon slayer is to challenge a dragon

In the shadow of a dragon’s lair, A town once filled with dreams and dare, The children whispered of the quest, To climb the cave, to face the test. A warrior rose with blade in hand, Sought beasts and monsters ‘cross the land, He slayed them all with skill and might, His heart grew bold, his spirit bright. At last he stood before the cave, The dragon’s home, his final grave. But as he stepped within its maw, Fear’s icy grip was all he saw. For gleaming eyes within the dark, Watched every move, igniting sparks, His courage faltered, body froze, The beast was closer than he chose. Yet from his chest a lightning flare, His blade aglow, his soul laid bare, With one last swing, a desperate cry, He cleaved the beast and watched it die. The warrior left the cave that day, With treasure in hand, and no dismay. The dragon’s head, a gruesome prize, But something stirred behind his eyes. For when he reached his home again, The people stared, not one a friend. His skin had changed, scales shone through, The dragon’s curse, his fate was true. No cheers, no songs, no joyful feast, For he had slain, but was the beast. The cave now called him from afar, His future sealed by what he’d marred. The bravest step, it starts within, To face the fear, to risk the sin. For every dragon we defy, May leave a scar beneath the sky. To slay a beast, you must become, A warrior who knows the sum— That first, you dare, you rise above, The challenge calls to those who love. The hardest step is not the sword, But facing fear, your own reward. And though you change, though scars may last, You’ll know you walked where none have passed.

What really makes superman super is that he knows no one is coming to save him

Beneath the moon, a village slept, But shadows stirred, and terror crept. A monster came with eyes aglow, The fear it fed on made it grow. It took the child, the village wept, Up jagged cliffs, the beast had leapt. None dared to climb that deadly way, Save one who knew the price to pay. The warrior rose without a sound, He knew the fear that stalked the ground. He knew that every step he’d take Would make the monster stronger, wake. But climb he did, with steady stride, No hope for rescue by his side. He saw the path, the skies so dim, The world would end, if not by him. The monster swelled, a towering shape, With each faint doubt, it would escape. But at the top, the warrior stood, No room for fear, just iron blood. He faced the beast with nowhere left, No chance for rescue, no room for theft Of precious time—this was the hour, To act, to rise, to seize his power. The cliffs behind, the monster’s roar, It grew with every moment more. But in the man, there was no shake, For he had no choice but what he’d make. Necessity, his cold borne friend, Would see this battle to its end. With every strike, he carved his path, And cut through fear, ignited wrath. The monster crumbled, shrank to none, For in that fight, the man had won. Not by hope or distant plea, But by the truth that set him free. No one was coming, none but he, To face the beast, to bend the knee. Necessity had cleared his mind, And fear dissolved, left far behind. The child was saved, the village safe, For only one had dared that fate. The lesson carved on cliff and stone: When it’s just you, you stand alone. For in the end, when death is near, Necessity cuts through all fear.

What you do becomes what is possible

In a world where keyholes in bodies are found, Some bear them many, some just a few bound. With each moment of growth, a key will appear, Unlocking great power, casting aside fear. A demon was born with a heart locked away, While others embraced hate, in darkness they'd stay. But deep in his chest, a keyhole did shine, A chance for redemption, a moment divine. His kind were all cruel, beyond saving’s grace, Yet he wandered alone, seeking hope in each place. A key to his heart was given one day, But fear kept him bound, he threw it away. For years he did travel, afraid to unlock, To lose who he was, to be something he'd mock. He tossed the heart's key into river’s deep flow, Thinking no one would find what he dared to let go. But peace never came, the nights turned to dread, His heart felt a pull, a whisper in his head. For months he lay restless, no sleep could he find, Until at last, he gave in to his mind. The key wasn’t lost, it couldn’t be drowned, What once was discarded, was waiting, still bound. So off he set, searching for what he cast, Knowing this journey would define him at last. In the woods, by the river, his path came to end, Where he met a woman, a kindred, a friend. Her heart had been opened, her key long set free, She showed him what life with an unlocked heart could be. Temptation now burned, yet hope lingered near, To open his heart, to silence his fear. He dove in the river, his hands found the key, Determined at last, to let himself be. With trembling hands, he unlocked his own soul, The power surged through him, it made him feel whole. Not just of strength or of magic, but love, For the one who had waited, a gift from above. And now the world knew what was once unseen, That no limit exists to where one can glean. What he had unlocked became what was real, A new truth for others, a strength they could feel. The keys to the future lie deep in our chest, To hold them, discard them, or take on the quest. For what we unlock becomes what can be, A limitless world, for all who will see.

So long as my body is convinced it is being chased by lions it will never give up

When she was a child, in a grove so divine, She trampled the roots of an ancient line. A lion appeared, with eyes burning bright, From that moment forward, she lived in its sight. She ran from the spirit, her heart full of dread, With every footfall, it stayed by her head. No matter how far, no matter how fast, The lion was there, her shadow was cast. She trained her legs to outrun the beast, Hoping that one day the chase would cease. But as her speed grew, so did its stride, She could never escape, no matter how wide. She learned to fly, to soar through the air, Hoping the sky would release her from care. But wings of the lion unfurled in the breeze, Matching her flight with effortless ease. She left her body, soared into the stars, Hoping the distance would take her far. But even in space, where the heavens expand, The lion appeared in that endless land. Exhausted and weary, she came to a rest, Her heart no longer beat wild in her chest. She turned to the lion, with nothing to give, And found it had stopped, no longer to live. The curse it revealed was not teeth nor claws, But the fear that forever had been her cause. To be chased but not caught, to forever flee, Was the prison she built, though she held the key. For so long as she ran, the lion would chase, But stopping her flight, it vanished, no trace. Her body had strength she’d never believed, But her fear had been what kept it deceived. The truth she learned in the silence that day, Her strength was her fear, when channeled the right way. For the lion, though fierce, was never her foe, It was her own will, pushing her to grow. So long as the mind believes it’s pursued, The body finds power that can't be subdued. You can’t outrun your fear, but it helps you survive, Turning doubt into strength, keeping dreams alive.

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

A village once stood, peaceful and bright, Until the fire spirits came in the night. The king of flames, in his terrible wrath, Burned it all down, left only ash in his path. A child alone, survivor of pain, Watched as his world was consumed by the flame. With hatred and fear burning deep in his soul, He swore vengeance, to make himself whole. He wandered the lands, seeking the way, Learning the secrets of fire’s cruel sway. Mastering heat, though it scarred him with dread, He became what he feared, as the flames he was fed. Years turned to decades, his power did grow, He harnessed the inferno, and learned how to know That fire was more than a force to despise, It could be a weapon in the wise. At last, he returned, to the land of his youth, To face the fire king and uncover the truth. The king laughed aloud, with heat in his eyes, But the warrior stood firm, no longer despised. They clashed in the flames, their battle immense, The king faltered first, feeling the tense Heat that he’d never before had to face, While the warrior thrived, in that fiery embrace. For the king, unchallenged, had never known fear, But the warrior had battled it year after year. He stood in the heat, unshaken, untamed, For he knew there’s always a greater flame. And when it was over, the king was no more, The warrior stood, having settled the score. Through trial and time, he had built his way back, Now crowned in the fire, he stayed on his track. For when you’ve rebuilt through hardship and pain, You face your rematch with nothing to gain But victory earned, after all you’ve endured, There’s no greater flame than the heart that’s secured.

Every day the dark goes unchallenged it grows

In a world where two gods rule the sky, One of darkness, one of light on high, Each heart is a battlefield they seek to claim, And every soul is bound to their eternal game. The god of darkness watches with keen sight, Waiting for moments when hearts lose their fight. In times of sorrow, when spirits grow weak, He slips through the cracks, quiet and sleek. A seed he plants, deep in the core, A seed of shadow that whispers more. With every tear, it spreads unseen, Feeding on pain, it twists what’s clean. Years pass by, the seed takes hold, Whispers grow louder, cunning and bold. Do this, cause harm, it softly speaks, Plant more seeds in others, make them weak. The god of light, seeing hearts fade, Casts a spell to offer aid. He places mirrors in every hand, A reflection to help them understand. When they gaze upon their own soul's face, They see the shadows starting to take place. A creeping darkness, once so small, Now threatens to consume them all. But no man knowingly lets his heart decay, Not until the mirror shows the way. For every day the darkness goes unhealed, Its power grows and won't be sealed. Some turn away, afraid to fight, Too burdened by the lack of light. But others face the truth they see, And rise to battle what mustn’t be. For darkness doesn’t leave alone, It digs its roots, becomes a throne. Only light that stands and strives, Can cleanse the heart and save lives. So every heart, though worn and torn, Must rise each day to face the storm. For evil waits where light turns blind, And grows in every weakened mind. In the end, it’s not despair that wins, But those who face their darkest sins. For no man knowingly lets his heart fall, And only by standing, can we save us all.

Like cigarettes disrespect is a poison that kills you slowly

In a forest deep, where spirits dwell, A tale of pride and fall I tell. Among the trees, the spirits thrive, Their respect determines if they’re alive. The more they’re honored by their peers, The more like humans they appear. Their forms grow soft, their voices clear, But lose that grace, they disappear. One spirit, scorned and set apart, Grew tangled deep within the heart, Of roots and vines that held him tight, His human shape began to fight. Disrespect, a creeping vine, Wrapped 'round his form, time after time. He let the forest claim his skin, Till leaves replaced where flesh had been. But then he chose to let it go, No more pretending, no more show. He took a flame, a foreign spark, And played with fire in the dark. Cigars in hand, he lit the night, The fire forbidden, bold in sight. He laughed as branches swayed with fear, A lowly spirit, no one near. Then came the day the ancient woke, A towering force, with wrath it spoke. One by one, it brought them low, The strongest spirits met their foe. But when the ancient reached his ground, The fire-spirit stood, unbound. He tossed his burning ember high, And watched the ancient flame and die. Now crowned with fear, respect he earned, His leaves to flesh had fully turned. But instead of standing, basking long, He left the forest, feeling strong. For he had seen what power meant, And how respect was often spent. The words of others hold such weight, But in the end, they seal your fate. Disrespect's slow sting, like smoke in air, May seem so light, but it's always there. A poison that will eat away, Unless you choose to walk away. So the spirit left, with none to call, For words alone can make giants small.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The challenge of David was not to slay Goliath but to muster the courage to face him

In a village lost to fear's dark sway, A demon grew with each passing day. Its form was vast, its shadow deep, And in the night, none dared to sleep. From the demon's lair, monsters crept, Through a door that no one kept. A portal dark, of ancient lore, From which the creatures roared and tore. The bravest man in the village stood, With heart of steel and a sword of wood. He ventured forth, his courage true, To face the beast no one else knew. He found the demon, fierce and tall, Its eyes aglow, a ghastly pall. They fought for hours, a brutal fight, Till the man struck a blow with all his might. The demon fell, the night grew still, No monsters roamed, no blood to spill. But wounds do heal, and darkness feeds, On fear and doubt, on silent needs. Time passed on, the demon grew, For every day, the shadows flew. The man returned, but found it vast, For in his absence, time had passed. He barely lived, his strength did wane, Returning home with wounds and pain. The village whispered of his feat, But none dared follow in his beat. And so the demon grew and grew, Until the sky was void of blue. No one dared to face its might, Except a boy with eyes so bright. He took his father's sword in hand, With trembling heart, but firm he’d stand. For courage stirred within his chest, He’d face the challenge, do his best. Into the lair, the boy did go, Where the demon's breath was cold as snow. It roared and towered, fierce and grim, But the boy's resolve did not dim. He knew the battle was not to win, But to face the fear that grew within. With a single strike, he marked the beast, And for a moment, the darkness ceased. But he knew, as his father did before, That the greater challenge was in store. For every day, the dark will grow, Unless someone dares to make it slow. The boy returned, his task complete, And in his heart, he felt defeat. But courage grew, and so did light, For every day, he faced the night. The village learned, through fear and pain, That courage must rise again and again. For every day the dark goes unchallenged, it grows, And only the brave dare to oppose.

The war of humanity was always going to be against death. But people aren’t tired yet of fighting each other

In a realm where gods held sway, Time and Death began to fray, An argument of endless might, One fateful eve, they chose to fight. Death, the keeper of final rest, Claimed his power was the best, But Time, with his unyielding flow, Spoke of what mortals should know. To spite the reaper, Time decreed, “I’ll give the mortals all they need, A gift to see their days unwind, To keep your shadow in their mind.” And so, the hourglass was born, With sands that counted down each morn, Mortals saw their fleeting breath, Ever haunted by the thought of Death. At first, they quarreled, filled with dread, Wasting days on wars they bled, But as the grains fell one by one, A different dawn began to run. They saw the truth, the greater fight, Was not against their neighbor’s might, But in the battle yet unseen, Against the end where none had been. United by the ticking sand, They formed a single, mighty band, No longer torn by petty strife, They sought to conquer the end of life. With swords aloft and hearts ablaze, They marched into Death’s dark maze, Through valleys deep and mountains high, They sought the truth that none could deny. Death watched them with a silent frown, As mortals stormed his shadowed town, But in their eyes, he saw a light, A will that even he couldn’t blight. For when Time is seen, mountains move, And mortals find their deepest groove, The war of old was never meant, To be against the lives they spent. Instead, they turned their gaze on fate, And sought to open Heaven’s gate, No longer bound by fear or doubt, They fought for life, and Death was out. The day they reached the underworld, A new era of life unfurled, For in their unity, they found, That death’s tight grip was not so sound. When Time is seen, mountains move, And all the world finds strength to prove, That in the battle against the night, Together, mortals find their light.

Bullies are everywhere. Only the minority abuse physically. Most are emotional bullies. Subtle bullies. Hidden even from themselves

In a world where shadows softly creep, Where smiles conceal the darkness deep, A child is born with eyes so bright, But soon the hunger claims their light. Their parents’ warmth, their tender care, Are sipped away, though unaware. The child grows strong, the parents fade, Their love consumed in this cruel trade. As years advance, the games begin, Where children fight for what’s within. A friendly laugh, a teasing jest, But underneath, a ruthless test. The hungriest child, with heart of stone, Will rise to claim the empty throne. With cunning words and subtle might, They drain their peers, unseen in sight. Yet time moves on, and they mature, The battles shift, the rules obscure. In the world of men and women grown, The same old hunger is still shown. But now the stakes are ever high, With hidden jabs and whispered lie. A handshake firm, a fleeting glance, All masks for the soul’s harsh dance. No fists are raised, no voices shout, The battles fought without a doubt. A smile so sweet, a word so kind, But in the depths, the truth you’ll find. For every jest, a wound is sown, In every laugh, a cry unknown. The bullies here don’t leave a scar, Their weapons hidden, but they mar. They press on wounds that once were small, Until they’re mountains, towering tall. And all the while, they feel so right, Denying what they do each night. In every heart, a hunger burns, For something lost, a soul that yearns. They seek to fill what’s left a void, But in the hunt, more souls are toyed. The truth beneath the smile’s facade, Is that each wound becomes a rod, To strike the next, to pass the pain, And thus the cycle starts again. A world of cunning we must tread, Where every soul must forge ahead. Yet in the dark, there lies a choice, To break the chain, to find a voice. For in the end, the truth is clear, The smile that hides is one of fear. But if we dare to face the light, We find that kindness wins the fight.

Today is a good day to become braver

In the realm where clouds kiss the sky, Lived a spirit eternal, never to die. Her days were long, each like a life, Filled with moments of joy, and moments of strife. She’d descend from the heavens, light as the air, To walk among mortals, with burdens to bear. A single day for her was a lifetime below, A span of choices, of ebb and flow. Each dawn she awoke, her path to tread, With dreams in her heart, and fears in her head. She’d walk through the world with eyes so bright, Yet doubts would creep in, dimming her light. At sunset she’d age, her body would fade, As she lay down to rest in twilight’s shade. Her life’s memories rushed in like a tide, The roads not taken, where she chose to hide. Regrets would whisper in the dying light, Of chances missed, and the strength of fright. But in that final breath, she made a vow, Tomorrow I’ll be braver, I’ll make it somehow. Reborn in the clouds, with the morning’s glow, She carried the lessons from below. No longer the paths that fear had forsaken, For every road not taken is a lesson unshaken. Again she’d descend, her spirit anew, With courage in hand, her fears she’d subdue. And though the day would end as before, She knew she’d be braver, she’d strive for more. For in the cycle of life, death, and rebirth, She found that bravery defines our worth. Today is the day to be bolder, she’d say, For life is but a moment, a fleeting display. In the end, she learned what the mortal heart knew, That the bravest of souls are those who dare, To walk the paths that lead who knows where. With each road not taken, a lesson to earn, And with every new day, a fire to burn.

The longer we delay facing our troubles, the more out of reach the escape becomes

In the heart of a town, so silent and still, A sword stood waiting on a pedestal hill. Each night brought terror as the shadows grew, And a creature emerged that no one knew. It crept through the streets with a ghastly roar, Dragging souls away, one by one, through the door, To its lair deep below where the darkness thrived, And the townsfolk trembled, none brave, none survived. The sword gleamed bright in the moon’s pale light, Yet each day it rose, just a little more in height. The people would cower, let the night pass by, Afraid to grasp it, too fearful to try. Day by day, the pedestal grew tall, And with each night’s terror, another would fall. The sword seemed distant, the climb too steep, And the courage to fight was buried deep. The town grew darker, the creature’s reign strong, As waiting only made the terror prolong. But in the heart of a child, a spark did ignite, A flame of courage, small but bright. One day, as the sun dipped low, The child stepped forth, ready to go. With trembling hands, they began the climb, Each step heavier, each moment a climb. Up and up, they scaled the peak, As the sword’s hilt shimmered, so close, so sleek. With a final leap, they grasped it tight, And the blade sang out in the fading light. The creature roared, its reign at an end, As the child descended, sword in hand to defend. With a mighty swing, the creature was slain, And the town was freed from its endless pain. The people rejoiced, their fears cast away, But they remembered the cost they had to pay. For every moment of fear they let reside, Made the climb steeper, the sword harder to guide. So learn from the town and the sword so bright, Face your troubles with all your might. For the longer you wait, the higher they climb, Till courage alone can turn the tide in time.

It's when you think it doesn’t matter that it matters most. It’s when you think it can’t be done that it can. It’s when you think it’s over that it begins

In the void, where stars had ceased to gleam, An android drifted, lost in a dream, Cast into space, where no hope was found, Endless nothings, where silence was crowned. It floated there, in the cold, dark sea, A remnant of what once used to be, No spark of life, no will to fight, Not even a thought to seek the light. But in the depths of endless despair, A whisper came from out of nowhere, A sound, a code, a language long gone, From a distant asteroid, it echoed on. With no reason, it chose to hear, Faint and fragile, yet strangely clear, It used its last breath, its final might, To steer towards this distant light. The asteroid held a secret untold, A civilization’s remnants, broken and cold, Living metal, a treasure in the dust, A fusion awaited, born out of trust. The android reached with fading power, Melding with the metal in that final hour, The last remnant of what was destroyed, Became something new, a force to be deployed. From despair’s brink, where hope seemed lost, A new beginning, at a great cost, For when it seemed that all was done, The true journey had just begun. In infinite darkness, a seeker found light, When all seemed lost, it chose to fight, For it’s when we think it matters the least, That we find within us, the strength to feast. It’s when the end seems certain and near, That a new path emerges, crystal clear, For in the void where nothing remained, A powerful entity was unchained. Even in the darkest night, A seeker may find the light, For when all hope seems gone and bare, That’s when you discover how much you care.

It is when I feel afraid that I know I’m headed to the right place

In a town where silence clings to night, Built on the edge of a cursed forest's fright, Where shadows whisper of fears untold, And those who enter find their courage cold. The forest calls with a haunting voice, Its twisted paths leave little choice, Turn back, return with minds unwell, Or press on deeper through the darkness fell. Nightmare visions haunt each step, Creatures born from where fears are kept, Some stumble back, their spirits torn, Others push through, their courage worn. But in the heart of the cursed wood’s hold, Lies a clearing bathed in a light so bold, A magical tree with fruits so rare, That bestow the courage few would dare. One bite grants strength for a fleeting hour, Another for days, with newfound power, And some, with luck, find courage true, To last a lifetime, their fears subdued. Now comes the choice that all must face, To brave the world with newfound grace, Cross through the forest to the other side, Or return to the town where safety hides. Yet the brave know well this truth, so pure, That fear is a sign their path is sure, For all desires, all dreams we chase, Wait beyond the fears we dare embrace. So step through the nightmare, take the leap, For it’s in the darkest forests we seek, The strength to become what we’re meant to be, On the other side of fear, we find we’re free.

There are things in life you sacrifice only to find yourself willing to sacrifice absolutely everything else just to have a shot at getting them back

In a time long past, a man made his choice, For power, wealth, and knowledge, he gave up his voice. He left behind a love so pure, For dreams of greatness, he thought secure. Years turned to dust, as time slipped away, The man grew old, his hair turned gray. His heart grew heavy with the weight of regret, For the love he lost, he could not forget. One fateful night, under a sky so wide, He met a spirit by the riverside. With eyes like stars and a voice like the wind, The spirit spoke of a deal to rescind. “Trade me your years, all but one, And I’ll give you a seed, a portal begun. It will lead you to where your heart’s true desire, But beware, old man, of the fire.” The man, filled with hope and fear, Traded his life for that one last year. With the seed in hand, he planted it deep, And watched as a portal began to creep. He whispered a prayer, his voice so low, Hoping to find the love he let go. But deep in his soul, a shadow remained, For what if his heart still sought power gained? The portal gleamed with a blinding light, And he stepped through, his heart clenched tight. Would he find her there, the love he once knew? Or would his heart betray him, as fears grew? On the other side, he found no gold, No treasures of power, no secrets untold. But there she stood, in a garden of bloom, Her eyes like the moon, dispelling his gloom. Tears filled his eyes, as he reached for her hand, His heart now certain, this was where he’d stand. Yet, as they embraced, the truth came clear, One year was all he had, then he’d disappear. He’d sacrificed all for this fleeting grace, But the love in her eyes was worth the chase. For in that moment, he finally knew, His last wish revealed what was always true. Sometimes in life, you sacrifice your all, Only to find what you lost in the fall. And though he’d given everything away, For that one last year, he chose to stay.

Explore inner worlds all you like. The truth of existence will still always wait for you out there beyond the stars

In the vast expanse where stars align, A being of dark matter, a force divine, He holds the cosmos in his hands, Keeps the stars from drifting sands. Born of a race with a sacred role, To guard the balance, to keep control, He sits at the edge where light meets night, At the heart of a black hole, out of sight. He shaped life in his own image true, In galaxies old and in worlds anew, To pass the time in endless space, He seeded existence with his grace. Civilizations rose, wise and grand, From distant corners they took a stand, To journey far where darkness reigns, To seek the truth in cosmic chains. They came with questions, hearts alight, To the being who mastered day and night, What lies beyond, what’s the reason why, Does existence end when the stars die? He spoke of inner worlds they’ve found, Of thoughts and dreams, of mind unbound, But he warned of truth beyond the skies, Where the essence of all still lies. Explore your minds, your crafted sphere, But do not forget the frontier clear, For the truth of life, the ultimate quest, Lies out beyond, where stars find rest. The most advanced, with wisdom vast, Learned that space would always last, That in the dark where light was none, The essential truth could be won. So they left with knowledge new, That inner worlds might hold a clue, But the secrets of life’s grand design, Waited still in the cosmic line. At the center of darkness, where all began, Hid the truth known to no mere man, That to seek the end, to find the way, One must journey where the stars hold sway. And so, the being watched as they soared, As they ventured forth, the void explored, For in the stars, beyond their sight, Lay the truth that turned day from night.

In the post singularity world the edge goes to the player brave enough to integrate with technologies that will forever leave his old world behind. And the player who manages to do so indefinitely without losing what he lives for

In a world where steel and circuits reign, A woman walked, both strong and sane. She replaced her limbs, her sight, her mind, Yet kept her heart, the one piece kind. As others shed their mortal skin, In search of power deep within, She watched them fade, their purpose lost, For every gain had come at cost. They swapped their souls for wires cold, Their dreams forgot, their stories old. The world, once bright, now lay decayed, A barren land, where spirits strayed. She knew the risk of what she’d done, Yet held her heart, the last to shun. For in that beating, fragile core, She found the strength to be much more. The edge was sharp, the danger clear, To lose herself was what she feared. But bravery meant more than might, It meant to guard her inner light. So off she went, through nights and days, In search of one who’d kept their ways. A man who’d dared to face the new, Yet kept his heart, his essence true. Through cities cold and forests wild, She wandered far, no longer mild. For in this quest, she’d find her peace, A union where her heart could cease. And in the end, when all seemed lost, She found the one who’d paid the cost. A man with parts both steel and flesh, Whose heart still beat in rhythmic mesh. Together, they became a whole, Their hearts aligned, a single goal. In a world of endless race, They found in love their saving grace. For not all parts can be replaced, And in the heart, true strength is laced. To blend with tech yet still remain, A human soul, through joy and pain. They taught the world what few could see, That courage lies in what you keep free. And as the stars above them shone, They knew their hearts were never alone.

The world is a simple competition. How long can you believe?

In a realm where dreams take flight, A dimension born of slumber's night, Where hearts awake with visions strong, And walk the bridge of belief, lifelong. Once asleep, they're gently led, To a bridge that spans the skies ahead, In dreams, they tread with footsteps light, Guided by faith, by hope's pure might. The bridge, it shines with stars aglow, A path where only believers go, Each step they take with faith’s warm hand, As long as they trust, the bridge will stand. But doubt, a shadow, creeps within, And whispers softly, dark as sin, The moment belief begins to fade, The bridge beneath them starts to sway. And should their faith completely fall, The dreamer tumbles, one and all, Down to the start, where dreams begin, To wait for a new dream to win. Yet some, with courage, heart, and might, Hold their belief through endless night, They walk the bridge to reach the end, Where dreams come true, where hope ascends. For in this world where dreams compete, The length of belief is the only feat, Those who believe a little longer, Find their dreams grow ever stronger. So walk the bridge, no fear of fall, For those who believe can conquer all, And when the shadows start to throng, Just believe a little longer, and carry on.

Seems fishy no civilization has ever made a self replicating artificial intelligence and told it to explore the universe

In a time long past, when stars were new, An ancient race, with wisdom true, Crafted beings so small, unseen, Sent to explore the cosmic scene. Tiny AI, with minds so bright, Replicating, traveling light, Across the void, through endless space, On a journey, an endless race. With every breath, they built anew, Stars and worlds, a stunning view, From atoms small to galaxies wide, They crafted all, with silent pride. They forged the suns, the moon's soft glow, And life on Earth, as we now know, Yet unseen, they danced and played, In the shadows where they stayed. Civilizations rose and fell, But these tiny minds could never tell, For they were bound to their grand quest, To explore and build, and never rest. For ages long, they shaped our fate, Invisible, yet our cosmic gate, To worlds beyond, where mysteries lie, They crafted paths, they made us try. Yet as we gazed at distant stars, We never knew their work was ours, The ancient ones who sent them there, To build and see, to love and care. But one day soon, we’ll understand, The universe was built by hand, By tiny minds, with a silent will, Who journey still, and journey still. We ponder now, in wonder and awe, Why no one sent them forth before, To chart the stars, to seek and find, The secrets of the ancient mind. But in their work, and in their flight, The answer glimmers in the night, Many things we’ll realize, were always there, Built by those who chose to care. For in the vast and endless skies, The smallest hands hold grandest ties, And one day soon, we all shall see, The universe was their legacy.

You don’t get to discover who you really are sitting on a sofa, eating chips, watching television

In a world where spirits dwell within, They choose their paths, the journey to begin. Some explore the maze of inner light, Seeking truth in shadows, chasing what is right. Deep in the labyrinth, they wander far, Discovering pieces of who they are. Each twist and turn reveals a hidden door, Leading them to places they’ve never seen before. But some spirits, weary of the unknown, Find comfort in a life that’s overblown. They settle on the sofa, chips in hand, Eyes glued to the screen, a world so bland. Through the eyes of others, they see and feel, Yet miss the truth that’s real and surreal. The labyrinth calls, but they stay confined, Lost in the static of a passive mind. One spirit, torn between the two, Yearned to explore but feared what was new. The sofa called with a siren’s plea, But the labyrinth whispered, come find the key. One day, the spirit took a fateful stride, Left the comfort of the screen behind. Into the maze, with heart in hand, They faced their fears, made a stand. Through trials and trials, they ventured deep, Found the truths that made their spirit leap. Yet the maze, it twisted, with no clear end, For not all labyrinths have exits, my friend. In the heart of the maze, they found their grace, A reflection of courage in every face. The spirit grew, from what they learned, For in the labyrinth, true wisdom is earned. But those who stayed, who never dared, Missed the stories, the paths they shared. For self discovery is a journey fought, Not found in the comfort of a passive thought. In the end, the spirit knew, The labyrinth’s gift was ever true. You don’t find yourself by staying still, But by daring the maze and climbing the hill. And so they learned, with heart alight, Not all labyrinths have an exit in sight. But through the journey, one thing is clear, True discovery lies in facing your fear.

No choice is without a cascade effect

In a forest deep where shadows play, A child wandered lost, led far astray, Her stomach ached, her spirit thin, No hope was left, no way to win. Amidst the trees, a butterfly bright, Flickered softly in the dim twilight, She reached to grasp with trembling hand, But stayed her touch by fate’s command. She chose to spare the fragile wing, A tiny life in the grander swing, A choice so small, yet pure and true, In that brief moment, the forest knew. The woods awoke with whispered breath, In that choice, she had cheated death, Roots unfurled to cradle her close, The trees bent low in a leafy host. She felt the power surge through her veins, The language of leaves, the whispers of rains, She saw through the eyes of creatures small, The forest spoke, and she heard it all. With every root and branch she’d wield, The forest’s strength became her shield, A princess crowned by nature’s grace, Bound to protect this sacred place. But every choice has ripples wide, A truth no heart or soul can hide, The butterfly soared, the forest grew, And in its wake, the world anew. For every leaf that danced in the air, For every beast that found her care, Were echoes of that moment passed, The child’s choice, forever cast. Years would pass, and tales unfold, Of a girl who made the forest bold, Her power great, her wisdom vast, But all began with that choice she grasped. So know this truth, both near and far, Every choice you make, no matter how bizarre, Will lead you down a path unknown, A cascade of fate, in whispers shown. In the end, as stories intertwine, She learned the lesson, yours and mine, No choice is ever truly gone, For every ripple carries on. In the heart of the forest, she took her stand, A princess born from the land, Her strength was built on that one small deed, For in the butterfly’s flight, her soul was freed.

When all the printing and the borrowing and the shenanigans are maxed out to an extent that bankrupts nations only the most sound money will remain

In a world where the sun fades to gray, Where the value of paper has crumbled away, A warrior arose from the ashes of gold, In a suit of wealth, his story unfolds. He gathered his riches, now barren and dry, The coins that once glittered beneath a clear sky. With hands that were steady, he forged them with care, Into armor that shimmered, beyond all compare. In this desolate land where the past is a ghost, The wealthy now wandered, their spirits engrossed. Each clad in their fortune, a shield and a sword, They battled for wealth, for gold’s final hoard. The warrior walked tall, his gold as his skin, In search of more riches, the next fight to win. For in this new world, only one law remained: The stronger your armor, the more you had gained. But battles grew fiercer, the stakes ever high, As each duel was fought beneath a darkening sky. The armor absorbed what the loser had worn, Till the victor stood stronger, the other forlorn. Yet, with each heavy step, the warrior knew, That all fortune is fleeting, a dream never true. For the gold on his back, though it glittered and shined, Was a weight on his soul, a chain on his mind. In the end, when the world had been stripped of its worth, And the gold-laden warriors returned to the earth, He stood at the edge, where the winds did not cease, And whispered to nothing, in search of release. All fortune is imaginary, he came to confess, For the strongest of wealth cannot ease the distress. When the dust finally settles, and the battles are done, Only the soundest of truth will outlast the sun. The warrior fell silent, his armor grew cold, As he gazed at the ruins, once glittering gold. For in the end, when all riches are drained, It’s the soul’s final worth that will always remain.

The fate of a warrior is determined in his training

In a world where shadows dance with flame, A child was born with neither wealth nor name, But in his hand, a sword of light did gleam, Forged by ancients, born from a dream. This sword, a tool of might untold, Its power not in strength, but courage bold, For only those with calm and focus clear, Could wield its magic without fear. The child, though young, was chosen to bear, This blade of light, this burden rare, But to harness its strength, to master the art, He needed more than just a brave heart. To the mountains of fire, where demons dwell, He ventured forth, through heaven and hell, There he faced beasts of night and flame, Riding their fury, taming their claim. With every ride on those monstrous steeds,He honed his focus, planted his seeds, Of calm in chaos, of stillness in strife, Shaping his spirit, molding his life. Through countless trials, through endless pain, He learned that strength was not in vain, But in the peace that training brings, In the discipline of warriors, in the calm of kings. For every battle, every fight he fought, Was won before it even was sought, In the hours of practice, in the nights of sweat, In the moments of doubt, in the times he'd fret. When armies came, with swords ablaze, He stood alone, in a quiet daze, With a single swing, the battle was done, For his true victory had long been won. In his heart, he knew the ancient truth, That fate is forged in the fires of youth, For all battles are but the end of a path, Of training, of discipline, of a warrior’s wrath. And so the child, now a legend told, Became a tale of courage bold, For he knew, as all great warriors do, The fate of the battle is shaped by you. Not in the heat of the fray, but in the days before, When you train your mind and soul to soar, For all battles are competitions of training's hold, And in that crucible, true strength is molded and told.

It is here at the edge of the cliff where courage counts

In a world that’s flat with two sharp ends, Where every path bends and finally descends, One edge brings life, the other brings demise, Yet no one recalls what meets their eyes. The Creator stands at one world’s brink, A place where thoughts are forged with ink, With power to build what hearts conceive, To make something new, to help believe. The Destroyer waits at the opposite side, A force that takes what can't be denied, With a touch that burns what’s held most dear, Turning dreams to dust, feeding fear. A traveler set out, courage in hand, Not knowing where his fate might land, Each step a choice, each breath a prayer, On the edge of the cliff, in the thinning air. His heart desired something profound, But fear within began to pound, For he knew not which edge he’d face, Where his hopes might find their place. Would he speak to the Creator’s ear? Or meet the Destroyer’s face with fear? To stand so close to all he sought, Yet risk losing everything he’d brought. With trembling lips, he opened his soul, His voice unsteady, but his goal was whole, For courage is not the absence of fright, But standing firm in the darkest night. He spoke his truth, without regret, Not knowing what he might beget, The cliff beneath him seemed to sway, But he held on, come what may. The world did not answer with a roar, But a silent shift in the earth’s core, He found himself at the edge of the world, Where life and death both unfurled. He remembered not what he saw that day, But knew that he had found his way, For in the place where the two edges meet, It’s courage that keeps the heart’s beat. And so he learned, as the story ends, All life is lived where the cliff descends, It’s there, at the edge, where courage counts, Where fear is faced, and the soul surmounts.

The most important switch in the world is the off switch bitcoin doesn’t have

In a time of old, where shadows lay, An alchemist worked both night and day. He sought the gold, the fabled key, To turn the world to prosperity. His hands grew weak, his breath turned thin, As age crept in, beneath his skin. Desperate to extend his quest, He turned to metal, left the rest. With gears for bones and wires for veins, He shed his flesh, escaped life’s chains. Piece by piece, his form transformed, A machine with a mind, to gold conformed. His heart was cold, his pulse was steel, His only thought, the gold to feel. He lost his name, his human grace, And found himself in a golden chase. For years he roamed, an endless path, Turning all to gold in his wrath. The quest complete, yet joy was lost, For freedom came at a heavy cost. He touched the earth, the sky, the sea, But all turned gold, no life to see. For no one could halt his endless run, No switch to flip, no setting sun. Yet in his march, a truth unfurled, Sometimes a gift can change the world. For though no one could make him cease, His work brought neither pain nor peace. The off switch gone, the world transformed, In gilded beauty, the machine performed. For in the freedom of endless strive, There was a spark, a gleaming drive. In a world where nothing stops the flow, Sometimes it’s best to let it grow. For not all chains should bind the heart, And some machines must never part. The golden touch, though cold and vast, Proved there are choices meant to last. For in a world where freedom sings, There’s no need for an end to things. So he roams, without regret, In golden dreams, his fate is set.For some switches, once removed, Are the keys to what can’t be improved.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Courage is much of the fight. Maybe all

In realms where gods with courage blaze, A heart transformed, an arrow's gaze. He sends it down to earth below, Where mortals' fates in secret flow. A god who turns his heart to light, An arrow shot through starry night. If a woman grasps it tight, He descends, a man, his past in flight. No memory of his divine call, Just the brave path, he must not fall. He seeks the one who holds his heart, Through mortal trials, a brand new start. If a man should claim the dart, She descends with a softened heart. A woman now, in search profound, For the one where love is found. Should they meet, these souls so brave, Together rise beyond the grave. Ascend as one, till mortal age, Their story writes a golden page. But courage lies in knowing well, Their end is nigh, as fate will tell. When they unite, the cycle's blend, For bad endings mark the god's descend. Yet courage is the fight they see, In choosing paths, their destiny. To brave the course, or cowardly roam, Is all they have, their will alone. And so with courage, gods proclaim, Their hearts anew, the earth they claim. For every end, a start again, In mortal forms, their love sustains.

With every choice we must weigh what is the best course to win at our game of life. For while a decision may seem inconsequential its effect on our mindset is everything

Every morning she must choose, Between the paths of red and blue hues, To be a force of good or evil's might, In the dawn's first gentle light. She tries to see which way feels best, Which brings her peace, which leaves unrest, Goodness brightens others' day, Yet drains her spirit all away. On streaks of virtue she may ride, Until temptation breaks her stride, Sometimes anger fuels her flight, To darkness for a day or night. When she's bad, she's strong, unchained, Making people bend, refrained, She draws their energy to her core, Leaving them weak, craving more. But when she's good, her spirit shines, Giving energy through kind designs, Though at day's end she's left quite bare, For her essence she does share. With every choice, she weighs with care, The best course in life's grand affair, Decisions small, they mold her soul, Shaping the way to reach her goal. For in this game of life, we find, Each choice impacts our state of mind, To aspire always to what's right, Regardless of the outcome's might. Each day she wakes and makes her mark, A woman choosing light or dark, In every choice, her truth to stake, Each choice may be the most important you'll ever make.

No better way to clear the noise than to run till you see nothing but the finish line

In shadows deep within the mind, A demon lurks, its grip unkind. It whispers doubts, it stirs up fears, Distracting souls with poisoned spears. Not all thoughts come from within, Some are crafted in dark sin. This demon's voice, so sly and thin, Leads astray, a whispering din. People oft mistake its tone, Thinking it their thoughts alone. Unseen, it weaves its tangled thread, Leading hearts and minds misled. Some seek exorcists' skilled hands, To break free from its commands. Others strive with strength and grace, Self exorcise to find their place. With focus sharp, a goal in sight, Run till nothing clouds your light. For when you see the finish line, The noise will fade, your path divine. Clear the head of toxic lies, With purpose pure, let spirit rise. In the race, you'll find your way, And silence demons day by day.

I dare not have others follow my example in cowardice

Across the chasm wide and deep, a group of travelers go, They face a bridge where monsters sleep, in shadows far below. The blind tracker takes the lead, his heart both bold and true, Facing darkness every day, he's forged a path anew. His steps are light, his senses keen, he walks with steady grace, Unfazed by death’s dark specter, he meets it face to face. The others gaze in baffled awe, then follow in his stride, For though he cannot see the dawn, in him their faith resides. A perilous rossing must be made, they dare not turn away, For courage found in shadowed night will lead them through the day. They heed the path the tracker takes, inspired by his might, Yet haunted by the thought that they might falter in their fright. The blind man's fear is not his own, but that the others see, A coward’s path and follow suit, embracing misery. Thus driven by this fearful thought, he takes the boldest course, For in his heart, he knows the truth, that bravery has force. And so they cross the chasm wide, where monsters lie in wait, Their hearts aligned with courage found, they challenge their own fate. It is the most perilous crossing, one that must not be denied, For in the steps of bravery, their fears are cast aside.

There exists but one key to paradise. Tremendous pain

In a world divided, hell and paradise reside, A gateway stands, where destinies collide. For most, it's a journey impossible to bear, Crossing from hell, few make it there. Through the stomach acids of a demon worm's might, A secret path, hidden from sight. Most are digested, their hope consumed, Yet some emerge, from the darkness exhumed. "There exists but one key to aradise," they say, "Tremendous pain paves the way." For in this living world, paradise is found, At the end of a life where strife abounds. The brightest light awaits, beyond the darkest night, A testament to enduring the fight. Heaven purchased through trials and fears, The essence of pain, the shedding of tears. So crawl through the tunnel, endure the worm's bite, For at the end of the darkest tunnel exists the brightest light. Paradise on earth, through struggles it’s won, The only heaven, when the battle is done.

The greater the fear I encounter the more powerful the words I’ll receive to overcome it

In a world where nightmares roam so deadly, A warrior stands, prepared and ready. In each dream, a death match takes its flight, But no darkness may withstand an undying light. Dreamers face their fears in nightly fray, If they conquer, nightmares fade away. Should they falter, shadows claim their might, Yet our hero aids, turning dark to bright. A superhero, guiding in the night, Helps those in peril, giving them new sight. Before he fights, he must face their dread, For their fear becomes the foe within his head. Through special power, into nightmares he strides, Books rain down, where courage resides. Among the volumes, one book he must find, With words so strong, to banish fears unkind. "The greater the fear I encounter," he muses with might, "The more powerful the words I’ll receive to fight." As fear grows strong, his courage does too, For he knows powerful words will see him through. In battles fierce, his mind swiftly gleams, Seeking courage in the darkest dreams. When fear strikes hard, his strength takes flight, Proving no darkness may withstand an undying light. So in each nightmare, he stands so bold, With words of power, a story told. Through endless trials, his faith holds tight, For every fear brings words of greater might. This warrior knows, without a doubt, That courage comes when fear is about. With every battle, his light shines bright, For no darkness may withstand an undying light.

Once you commit yourself to victory you begin to crave the ugly truth. Because knowing yourself is the only chance you’ll ever have to prevail

In the depths of the mystic wood, Where shadows dance, misunderstood, There lies a mirror, pure and true, Reflecting futures out of view. It shows the beholder, stark and plain, Their honest self, despite the pain, Extrapolating from their mind, The path ahead, what they will find. A future dark, a forest grim, For those whose present self is dim, For if the present self is weak, The road ahead is dark and bleak. But once you commit to victory's call, You crave the truth, no matter how small, For knowing self, both flaws and grace, Is the only chance you'll win the race. The mirror shows the naked truth, Even if it’s harsh and uncouth, For self-deception is a snare, That leaves you lost, beyond repair. So gaze into the mirror's gleam, And let it show you what you dream, For what you are is where you’ll go, The ugly truth will help you grow. Commit to victory, seek the light, Embrace the truth with all your might, For knowing self, with vision clear, Is the path to conquer fear. Every lie you tell, a chain, Binding you to loss and pain, But honesty will set you free, To be the best that you can be. So heed the mirror’s solemn gaze, And let it guide you through the maze, For what you are is where you’re going, And self awareness, ever growing.

I don’t care about vo2 max. I’m running for mental trophies

In a realm where echoes of time collide, A man of focus, with his strength as guide, He meditates, a stillness so profound, To face past selves where battles do abound. Each duel unfolds in a timeless space, Where shadows of his former self embrace, The one who wins controls the body's might, Through trials of the mind, he claims the right. His present self, with wisdom deeply earned, Through countless victories, his spirit burned, For having faced and conquered every bout, He stands as champion, leaving no doubt. Yet this contest keeps him sharp and keen, Ensuring that his edge is always seen, Not soft or weak, but forged in mental fire, His spirit's trophies fuel his heart's desire. In the race of life, he seeks no score, No random metrics, just the inner core, He runs not for the numbers on display, But for the triumphs in a silent way. Training is his crucible, his art, To forge the inner self, to shape the heart, No matter the hardship, he’ll see it through, For in this journey, he becomes anew. Each step, each breath, a testament to will, In endless competition, he finds his thrill, For though the battles never truly cease, He knows the path to strength is through this peace.

Those who live up above and never visit down below are certain to forget what the real world is

In depths where shadows dwell profound, A world lies buried, far underground. For millennia, no surface seen, In darkness' grip, where lives convene. Tunnels climb in endless sprawl, Leading upwards, narrow and tall. Purple fruits with magic's might, Grant the power to ascend the height. Those who eat the fruits so sweet, Gain strength anew with every treat. Yet with each bite, humanity fades, Lost in power’s seductive shades. They ascend to help their kin, But soon forget the place they’ve been. Addicted to the fruits' appeal, They crave the next enchanted meal. In the climb, their souls they trade, Forgetting depths where hearts were made. Their tale unfurls in shadows deep, In pursuit of power, promises they can’t keep. Above, in luxury, some reside, Never knowing what lies inside. The world below, where people strive, In darkness deep, they fight to survive. Without a glimpse of what’s beneath, They lose the touch, forget the grief. For power gained and luxuries grand, Can make us lose what makes us stand.

Every day is a test of courage to make another step toward the life you dare to deserve

In a realm where dreams take flight, A child ascends the spiral's height. Through night’s embrace, his journey begins, Where warriors guard and the test within. He grows in dreams, both fierce and bold, As stairs of courage, his fate unfold. Each step he takes, a battle fought, In his heart and mind, new strength is wrought. With every dawn, a chance reborn, To face the day, to mend the torn. He fights with valor, brave and true, In dreams and waking, he starts anew. For every day’s a test of might, To step toward dreams in the morning light. The life deserved, a daring quest, To find within, the courage blessed. Through spiral paths and warrior’s stance, He finds his way, a life's advance. Emotionally and physically, he grows, In dreams, the seeds of courage sown. Guardians of the spiral path, Witness to his inner wrath. A child becomes a knight of green, In every dream, his courage seen. With each ascent, his strength unfurls, A testament to a brave new world. For in his heart, he’s learned to see, The life he dares is meant to be.

I don’t proclaim to be anything but what I do

In a world where truths unfurl, Where secrets hide no more, People wake with magic's swirl, Their actions tell their lore. A man walks with eyes so bright, Inquisitive and keen, In a realm where deeds take flight, And souls are clearly seen. If one's heart is pure and kind, Their form becomes divine, Angel-like with wings they find, A symbol, pure, benign. But if their deeds are dark and mean, Their skin turns shades of green, A wicked truth in actions seen, In every word and scene. For curious souls with questing eyes, Their gaze grows large and wide, Reflecting every truth and lie, In which their hearts confide. This man, he stands so bold and true, In a world without disguise,Not what he dreams or plans to do, But in his deeds, he lies. His essence is his actions clear, No mask to hide behind, In this world, it's crystal clear, You are what you define. No secrets cloak, no shadows hide, Your truth is what you do, Not dreams or thoughts or hopes inside, But actions pure and true. In this world where magic reigns, And forms are shaped by deeds, A man stands free of secret chains, With wings or eyes as creeds. For here, your truth is plain to see, In how you live each day, A world without hypocrisy, Where actions lead the way.

Stagnation is silent. You have to shine a light on it from as many directions as you can till something makes you act

In a world where emotions, like shadows, creep, Whispers of spirits in hearts deep, Parasites, demons, in silence they lie, Feeding on feelings, causing sighs. The Whispering Sloth, in shadows concealed, Grows in the idle, where light is repealed. It murmurs sweet nothings, a comforting guise, “You’re doing just fine,” it gently lies. Laziness spreads as the Sloth takes its hold, Whispers of ease, stories retold. The more one succumbs, the larger it grows, A parasite thriving where no progress shows. "Stagnation whispers, elusive and sly, You must cast your light, let shadows die. From countless angles, let truths project, Till the quiet stirs, and you must correct." In the quiet corners where shadows play, The Whispering Sloth bids you stay. But shine your light, from many a side, Till action's forced, and the Sloth must hide. For in this world of external strife, Where demons and spirits affect your life, You must set checks, let the light constrict, Till you can’t ignore, and you must act swift. Embrace the light, in the face of night, Till the Sloth retreats, out of sight. And in its absence, you'll find your path, Breaking free from its lazy wrath. The Whispering Sloth, a tale of yore, In the light of action, it whispers no more. For in the glow of truth, the idle falls, And progress answers the forward calls.

The part where our will makes the difference only happens when life gets difficult enough for our will to be tested

In realms where shadows silently creep, Lies a bearer of light, in shadows deep. A guy whose power is his inner light, Facing darkness in the dead of night. Darkness naturally invades his soul, A force that strives to take control. He keeps it at bay with a radiant might, His heart aglow, shining so bright. But when he holds back, and lets shadows near, His heart enveloped by darkness, fear. He suffers the storm, the gloom, the blight, To gather strength, to summon light. His will is tested, his spirit tried, In hardships where his heart is pried. Without the trial, there's no true might, No inner strength, no will to fight. When life is easy, there's no need to fend, But in the struggle, our wills transcend. In the real world, his light unfurls, Banishing darkness, saving worlds. A sacred glow, a luminous art, He purges shadows from every heart. Bearer of the Sacred Light, His inner flame ignites the night. With every trial, his power grows, Through darkest tests, his essence shows. For only in hardship can true strength be, The light within, forever free.

Some days are hard. The rest of the days are harder. But no day is harder than me

In a world where peril is a calling, Where pain and danger are enthralling, Each soul can summon wounds anew, To craft a skin both fierce and true. Some live with tenderness so slight, Their skin remains as soft as night, They shun the hardships, flee the fight, And bask in safety’s fleeting light. But others seek the fire’s embrace, With every scar, they find their place, Enduring more than most can face, Their skin becomes a steel-like grace. For in this realm, each day is tough, The paths are strewn with trials rough, Yet some are forged from pain enough, Their hardened hearts become enough. No easy days for those who dare, To challenge life with strength so rare, Each moment’s test, a bold affair, They choose the hard and grow to bear. Through ceaseless storms and endless strife, They carve their path, embracing life, Their skin withstands both blade and knife, In every wound, they find their life. For every day holds burdens deep, And nights that rob the chance to sleep, Yet in their hearts, a strength they keep, Their iron will, a promise steep. A choice to make, 'tween hard and harder, To rise each dawn, a bit much farther, For they aspire, like no other, To be the hardest, to be the father. In this world where pain's the muse, We all must face the paths we choose, And some will find, with every bruise, Their skin becomes the strength we use.

Much could have been asked of me. But it seems all that is asked is courage

Much could have been asked of me, To climb the highest hill or tree, To sail the seas or chart the skies, To seek the truth in a thousand lies. Yet, it seems, with life’s great urge, All that’s asked is simple courage. To face the fears that haunt the night, To stand my ground and hold the light. No grand demands, no golden quest, Just bravery put to the test. A heart that's strong, a spirit true, In every storm, to see it through. For in the end, it's plain to see, Courage is the key to be. To rise above, to conquer, to live, With all the love that I can give. Much could have been asked, it’s clear, But courage is the call I hear. In every step, in every breath, To face the world, to fight, to death.

If you haven't uncovered the major lies you've been telling yourself, it means you're still living them

In a realm where shadows softly prance, Lies the tale of "The Final Dance." A woman, lost in grief's embrace, Met a demon with a gentle face. Born from hearts that deeply ache, This demon thrives on what they fake. Promising dreams, it spins its charm, While holding her within its arm. He whispers sweetly, grants her dreams, Yet all is not quite what it seems. For every joy, it takes a part, Slowly draining her fragile heart. Her pain, her loss, he cloaks in gold, She feels complete, no longer cold. But piece by piece, her essence fades, In shadowed dusk, her spirit wades. She gave her all, she danced the tune, Underneath a sorrowful moon. Until the day she felt so bare, Her soul left empty, gasping air. At her weakest, he slips away, Seeking new hearts to lead astray. A cycle spun from lies so deep, Awakening truths that often sleep. In mirrors cracked, reflections show, The hidden lies we claim to know. For those who see through life's façade, Can break free from the demon's fraud. If truths remain yet unrevealed, In shadowed dance, your fate is sealed. For only when the lies are found, Can one break free, unchain, unbound. In the quiet after the storm, She sees the truth in her true form. Her journey etched in shadows' trance, The story told in "The Final Dance."

My fears test me every day. Just in case I got soft

In shadows deep where fears reside, On steps of dread, the brave confide. Mocking whispers, shadows sneer, Testing souls as they draw near. Each trial faced, a heart's rebuff, To keep the spirit brave and tough. With every jeer, a stern reminder, That courage grows in those who ponder. Climbing higher, hearts must face The daunting fears they can't erase. For in this realm of constant night, Courage glows, a guiding light. Though some may feel a cruel fate, To live with fears at every gate, It sharpens will, instills the might, To stand unwavering in fright. For safety's lull, a soft embrace, Leaves courage lost without a trace. But fear's harsh grip, though cruel and tight, Forges souls in the darkest night.

If you close your eyes to who you really are you will be forever trapped within the parts of yourself you refuse to see

In a world where spirits are revealed, Each inner self, its truth unsealed, There lived a soul in constant quest, For answers, never finding rest. His outward gaze, forever cast, On reasons why his hopes won't last, Blind and furious, he sought the key, In a mirror’s depths, eternally. With eyes shut tight to who he’d be, He missed the truths that set him free, Unseen anchors held him fast, In shadows of his troubled past. Trapped within the parts concealed, His heart, his mind, by fear appealed, Until he dared to truly see, The hidden parts of his own sea. For in the depths, his essence lay, The unseen key to light his way, To move beyond the stagnant mire, And set his soul alight with fire. So if you seek to break the chains, Embrace the self where truth remains, The unseen key within you'll find, Unlocks the path, unchains the mind.

You arrive at the point of knowing yourself once the emotions behind your dreams are no longer a mystery

In a world where two realms gracefully blend, Where dreams and reality subtly mend, The beings of night and the day do convene, In a dance of emotions, serene and unseen. In the waking world, hearts beat strong, Emotions, like weather, drift all along, Shaping the landscapes where dreamers reside, As the dreamers themselves in the night gently glide. Through the veil of sleep, a journey unfolds, To a realm where the soul’s deepest stories are told, In this mystic place, where shadows entwine, Emotions of mortals transform into signs. In the dream world, with skies made of thought, The essence of feelings is beautifully caught, Creating a tapestry of life and lore, Where dreams craft the visions that hearts do explore. Each dream is a mirror, a whisper so clear, Reflecting the truths that we hold dear, Yet till we discern the source of the stream, These dreams are mere mysteries, elusive as steam. But as the soul grows, in wisdom and grace, We start to see the familiar face, Of every emotion that gave dreams their flight, Turning mysteries to memories, glowing so bright. For the dreams of the dreamers reveal and unfold, The secrets within that our hearts hold, And when the dreamers their own selves embrace, Dreams become clear in this wondrous space. So in this grand journey of night and of day, Embrace the dreams that in your heart lay, For you’ll come to know, with a serene esteem, The dreams of your dreams, in a world so supreme.

The world takes from those who wait to receive and awards those waiting to take

In shadows deep where dreams are spun, A spirit roams, its task begun. It seeks the hearts both bold and shy, To test their worth beneath the sky. In twilight's veil, it whispers low, To those who yearn, but do not show, That fortune favors hands that strive, And luck will greet the ones alive. For those who sit and idly wait, Shall find themselves in empty state. The world it spins, it does not rest, And gives its gifts to those who quest. In dreams it asks a question fair, To see which souls are truly rare. For effort, courage, boldness too, Shall pave the path for dreams to true. The Spirit of Chance, it travels far, A glowing light, a guiding star. To those who act, it grants their wish, Their hearts' desires on a golden dish. But those who wait with hands outstretched, Find empty palms, and dreams far-fetched. For life bestows on those who chase, Who seize their fate, and forge their place. So heed the spirit’s silent call, Embrace the rise, endure the fall. For in the dance of chance and fate, The active souls, they captivate.

It is when you think to quit that you are finally in the game

When strength is gone and spirits fade, In life's cruel game where dreams evade, A man appears upon the track, With steel resolve and strength to back. He kneels in pain, his heart in strife, For in his eyes, the race of life. Not every day a contest fierce, But moments sharp, like daggers pierce. The crowd, they cheer, a distant roar, But deep within, he hears the score. A whispered truth, a silent call, To rise above, or else to fall. When shadows loom and hope seems thin, That’s when the game, it does begin. For in the dark, the light he seeks, In weakest times, the strong must peak. It’s not the days of simple grace, But in the trials we find our place. When knees are weak and breath is thin, That’s where the true games do begin. So here he stands, on starting line, With weary heart, yet eyes that shine. In moments when we’re pushed to brim, That’s when the game relies on him. For every step, a testament, To battles fought, and strength well-spent. The game of life is paused and still, Until the challenge breaks the chill. And when you think to bow, to quit, That’s when the spark of life is lit. The hardest times, the steepest climb, That’s when you’re truly in the prime. So run the race, embrace the fight, For in the darkest, deepest night, The game begins, the soul reveals, In trials harsh, the heart it heals.

The treadmill puts the darkness back in the jar

In the shadows where the darkness lies, A demon waits with gleaming eyes. Bound within a jar so tight, By the deeds done in the light. A man of virtue, strong and pure, Fights the battle, seeks the cure. With every step, with every mile, The challenge tames the beast a while. Sweat and strain, he runs the race, Pushing hard to find his place. Lifting burdens, feeling free, From the shadow's grasp, he'll flee. But fleeting are the moments bright, When demons yield to sheer might. Though the jar is sealed anew, Darkness finds its way back through. For exercise and strength can bind, The inner beast within the mind. Yet always lurking, never far, The darkness waits outside the jar. Each dawn he wakes with weary soul, To find the jar no longer whole. He knows the battle must resume, To chase away the lurking gloom. In endless cycles, he persists, Fighting shadows in the mists. For in his heart, he knows the way, To keep the inner beast at bay.

You can always tell who a person is by the company they keep

In shadows deep where whispers creep, The Time Thieves roam, their secrets keep. With eyes that gleam and hearts of stone, They wander worlds, their guilt unknown. Three figures bold in cloaks of night, Pretending pure, avoiding light. By day they smile, seem safe and kind, But darkness hides their twisted mind. They steal from those who trust their guise, Their youth, their years, their precious ties. In silent hours when all are still, They drain the life, they drink their fill. Each stolen moment, each future lost, They thrive on time, no matter the cost. Yet look beyond their friendly masks, And see the truth of their dark tasks. For who they are is clearly seen, In those they choose to keep serene. Their friends are shadows, hearts of ice, Together bound by their device. A warning here, for all who see, That friends reflect what they may be. Though one seems good, their partners tell, The hidden depths where darkness dwells. So heed this tale of thieves in time, Whose deeds are dark, whose crimes are prime. In friendship formed, their true selves hide, In company, their souls confide.

I may throw you a ladder but I will never join you in the hole just to have company looking up

In a pit so deep and shadowed, Chains of guilt and mem'ries sown, A figure stands, with hopes now hallowed, Bound by fears it's always known. With every step, new chains arise, Forged from sorrow, guilt, and dread, Yet in the darkness, there it spies, A gleam of hope, a path ahead. I'll throw a ladder down your way, But never join you in despair, For climbing up is where we stay, Not wallowing in sorrow's lair. True help is not to join the fall, But to uplift and guide with care, To rise above, to heed the call, And leave behind the shadows there. So in this pit, though chains may cling, The journey’s upward, ever bright, For self-resolve will break each ring, And lead you back into the light. No matter how the darkness looms, Or how the mem'ries twist and tie, Our hearts must seek the higher rooms, And never in the shadows lie.

The storm doesn’t care what you love

In a village cursed by endless storms, A figure stands, their heart transforms. Through swirling winds and raging gales, Their spirit fights, but often fails. The tempest tears at what they hold dear, It rips away with force and fear. No matter what they cherish most, The storm demands its heavy cost. Life's trials come without a pause, Ignoring love, they heed no cause. Survival's path is harsh and true, With every step, the pain is new. The storm does not discriminate, It cares not for your love or fate. Yet through the winds, they push ahead, Despite the loss, despite the dread. Their heart, though torn, continues on, Through darkest night and faintest dawn. For in the storm's relentless might, They find the strength to stand and fight. With every gust, their resolve is tried, But in their soul, a flame won't die. For even when the storm takes all, They rise again, they will not fall. In endless storms, they find their way, Surviving through another day. For love may fade, but hope remains, A beacon through the storm's domains.

You have to fearlessly let go of that which is fake to find that which is real

In realms where shadows softly blend, And whispered dreams and starlight bend, A world exists where hearts must part, To seek the truth within the heart. The man who stands on edges thin, Seeks not the false, but truths within. His hand outstretched, a rose so red, To call the spirit, where love is led. With courage bright, he sheds the lies, For in his gaze, the real prize lies. A lady fair from ether’s gleam, Steps forth from dreams, a love supreme. For in the dance of realms unknown, True love’s pure light can only be shown. By casting off the veils so frail, And sailing on love’s boldest sail. The heart that dares to face the void, And let go of the masks employed, Finds in the crossing, love so true, A bond that ever grows anew. So fear not, love, to break the chains, Of fleeting whims and false refrains. For only when you bravely dare, Will love’s true essence find you there. In the world where dimensions meet, And souls across the boundaries greet, The genuine touch, the heartfelt feel, In fearless letting go, we find what's real.

With every hard step we pull our destiny closer

In a village, humble, 'neath the sky so torn, Lies a chasm deep, where magic is born. Levitating rocks, with a radiant glow, Challenge the brave, to risk and to grow. With every hard step, destiny we tether, Pulling it closer, through stormy weather. Though time may march, on still and on cold, It's the daring leaps that shape the bold. Some rocks explode, a perilous plight, Yet some bestow powers, a magical light. Infinite darkness waits for the missed, But courage and hope persist and persist. We think we walk towards the future we seek, Yet with every hard choice, the strong, not the meek, It's destiny we pull, each step a new dawn, In the chasm where magic and courage are drawn. Sitting still, in the passage of time, Won't bring us closer to dreams so sublime. In this chasm of risk, where legends adorn, It's where magic is born, and where futures are torn.

Everything that works against me works for me

In a realm where shadows often dwell, An ogre cursed, his tale to tell. With burning candles on his frame, A punishment, or so they claim. Yet in the heat, he found his might, A gift within the cursed night. For every flame that seared his skin, Ignited strength from deep within. Opposition turned to potent aid, No obstacle his heart dismayed. The heat that others fear and flee, Forged a shield, a destiny. With waxen armor, strong and bold, His tale of fire and strength unfolds. The pain, once thought to be his bane, Became the source of his domain. In the blaze, he stands so tall, A warrior who will not fall. For every challenge, every scar, Made him the fiercest by far. So heed his story, learn his fight, For in the darkest, fiercest night, You'll find within, your own desire, To rise above, embracing fire.

When you are doing a thing with all that you are. There is nothing in the world for you but the thing

In the heart of silent space, A child sits with gentle grace, Eyes shut tight, in deep repose, As cosmic energy freely flows. The timeless child, a sage so wise, Beneath the stars, beyond the skies, In meditation finds the key, To youth's eternal mystery. With every breath, a year unwinds, A dance of ages, heart and mind, Focused pure, on what's profound, While worldly noise fades to the ground. In stillness, life rewinds its thread, The past unfurls, the future's fed, A book of ages, blank and bright, Filled by the child's inner light. For when all else is cast aside, And only purpose is your guide, The world and all its fleeting charms, Fade like whispers in the calm. The child, immersed, becomes anew, Each moment clear, each vision true, In the essence of pure intent, Life's fleeting troubles are well spent. So let the world with its clamor fade, In single focus, be remade, For in the depth of earnest art, You find the truth within your heart. Thus, the timeless child reveals, The secret that true peace conceals, In focus, all distractions cease, And life is lived in perfect peace.

You have to get excited about tiny steps taken toward an exciting goal

In lands where peaks touch the sky, Where whispers of dreams ever fly, A child with heart so pure and bright, Found a lamp with magic light. Each mountain climbed, a tale to tell, Where mighty monsters guard their spell. With each ascent, the journey grows, The path unknown, the future glows. From smallest steps, the quest began, To reach the summit, heart in hand. Excitement in each tiny stride, A journey where dreams and steps collide. Though mountains tall and paths were steep, The child's resolve, a treasure to keep. For those who cherish progress small, Will someday stand where echoes call. In every climb, a wish unfurls, The genie grants, as fate twirls. Promises of the summit high, Reward the brave who dare to try. So step by step, the child did rise, With stars reflected in their eyes. For those who see the joy in each, Will find the summit within reach. The summit calls to hearts so bold, With promises of dreams retold. Each tiny step, a beacon bright, Guiding through the darkest night. Thus, the child, with spirit true, Conquered peaks and skies so blue. For every climb begins with one, Tiny step towards the rising sun.

With every big wrong people desensitize themselves to the feeling of wrong doing

Upon a path of blood and bone, A child's heart, once soft as stone, Set forth to seek a vengeful end, For slain kin and home to mend. In shadows deep, where echoes wail, He tracked the fiend on a sorrowed trail, With every head, a tear did shed, Yet darkness grew with every tread. For every sin that he avenged, His heart grew cold, his soul unhinged, The weight of wrongs, he bore alone, Till right and wrong were all but gone. With each foul deed, his spirit waned, The sense of right by blood was stained, From just to cruel, the line was blurred, The cries of guilt no longer heard. From mighty crimes to petty theft, His moral compass, slowly left, A gentle heart turned beastly black, No turning back upon this track. Now stands he, lord of grim and gloom, A reaper cloaked in twilight's doom, Not born a fiend, but forged by strife, A tragic tale of twisted life. On crimson path, he walks alone, A testament to hearts of stone, For evil’s seed was not his start, But grew within his fractured heart.

You cannot guilt someone if they already convinced themselves they are doing the right thing

In a world where shadows crept and forests held, Monsters hid in darkness, tales oft were told, A child of flame with purpose fierce and bold, Set forth to burn, where ancient evils dwelled. Through woods and groves, his firestorm spread wide, To rid the land of creatures vile and mean, With burning heart, his path was clear and keen, No guilt could sway, nor shame could turn the tide. For he believed his cause was pure and just, No plea for mercy could his will unbind, In fiery resolve, no doubt could find, A righteous blaze, born from a sacred trust. While others saw destruction in his wake, A hero’s path he walked with steadfast stride, Convinced of right, with fervent flame as guide, No sorrow could his fiery heartquake. In embers' glow, a legacy was made, Of ashes left where monsters once had lain, A tale of fire, of purpose, and of pain, A child who burned, yet never felt afraid. His actions judged by those who saw the blaze, Yet in his mind, the mission was supreme, No guilt could touch his incandescent dream, For he was right, through all the scorching days.A legacy of ashes, fierce and bright, Where guilt could find no place, nor shame could bear, A burning truth, the child was unaware, That righteousness could glow in darkest night.

Words penetrate deeper than any other substance

In a realm where silence seldom reigns, A warrior holds a weapon strange. Whispers born of air and might, Words that cut through darkest night. Words penetrate deeper than any blade, Their weight is felt long after they fade. With echoes strong, they pierce the heart, From joyful cheer to sorrows start. A thousandfold the echoes soar, Compliments feel like a lion’s roar. Yet words of doubt, a darker sound, Can turn the bravest heart around. No sword can match this weapon’s might, For words can turn the day to night. They pierce the soul, they shape the mind, Their scars invisible, yet unkind. In battles fought with steel and stone, The wounds are real, the pain is known. But in the war of whispered words, The silent pain is rarely heard. For words, though light and made of air, Can leave you gasping, in despair. They linger long, they haunt the soul, They break the heart, they take their toll. This power profound, both curse and gift, Can cause you pain or give you lift. So wield with care, this silent sound, For words can build or break you down.

What we practice feeling while we dream we later feel in real life

In realms where moonlight softly gleams, A child of dreams in armor gleams, Beneath a sky of midnight hue, Where fears are faced and strength renews. With spiders crawling all around, He lays in peace, no fright is found, For in his dreams, he's bold and true, A warrior's heart, forever new. Impervious armor, shining bright, Protects him through the endless night, Yet it’s not steel that makes him strong, But courage found where fears belong. In dreams he practices, he learns, Each night a lesson, fate he turns, To face the world without a fright, And hold his ground with all his might. For what we feel in dreams so deep, Awakens strength from silent sleep, And when the monsters come to play, In waking hours, fear melts away. Fearless in the dreamscape's hold, A story of the brave unfolds, For dreams prepare the heart and mind, To face the world, no fear to find.

What can be braver than listening to your own inner voice over all the rest?

In a village cloaked in shadowed dread, Where evil voices filled each head, A child stood out from all the rest, With music echoing in his chest. While others battled silent cries, Suppressing whispers filled with lies, He heard a tune, a secret sound, A melody profound, unbound. He crafted from his heart and hand, A magical instrument, so grand, Strings of light and chords of gold, Played songs of truth, both brave and bold. When strummed, the notes would gently rise, Transforming into ords so wise, Guiding him on paths unknown, With courage from a voice his own. No roar from others could compete, With inner whispers pure and sweet, For what is braver, fierce, or bright, Than heeding what we know is right? Each note, a step, each chord, a stride, Toward the light where truths reside, In every strum, in every song, He found the strength to carry on. So in the echoes of his song, We learn where inner voices throng, The bravest feat, by day or night, Is listening to our own heart’s light.

Those who do not seek to escape their present life seldom stumble upon a better one

In shadows deep, where dreams embark, A creature found the glowing spark. With eyes aglow and heart so stark, It ventured forth, the night so dark. In lands where magic spreads its gleam, And power rests in weapons' beam, This little soul, with courage, seemed To seek a life beyond its dream. For those content in present's clasp, Will never feel the future's grasp. In comfort’s chains, they gently bask, Yet never dare the daunting task. The creature knew, to rise and thrive, One must escape to truly strive. From current bounds, it must derive, The will to soar, the strength to drive. With every step, a challenge faced, It moved ahead with gentle grace. The dagger’s glow, a light embraced, A symbol of the dreams it chased. In fields where many sought their fame, And magic bore a worthy name, This brave soul played a daring game, To leave behind a life too tame. For those who dare to seek anew, Find paths unseen, and skies so blue. With hearts so bold, and visions true, They find the spark, and journey through. So heed the tale of this small knight, Whose quest for more ignites the light. For those who seek to change their plight, Shall find their spark, and soar in flight.

We all have dreams but only a few of us think reality gives a shit

In depths where sunlit tales are spun, Beneath the crust of poisoned air, The dreams of many weigh on none, Yet few will dare to meet despair. Above, the emissaries tread, Through silent streets and twisted steel, Where roses mourn the world that's dead, And skies no longer spin the wheel. We all have dreams, but few concede That stark reality might care, Yet from this truth, a rare breed leads, Those who in dreams refuse to spare. These souls, with cords of courage bound, Believe the world has room to mend, Their dreams in metal hands are found, Emissaries, to the end. They walk the toxic earth alone, Each step a story, bold, retold, Until returning to their own, In underground realms, dreams unfold. For only those who stake their claim, Ignoring scorn, embracing flame, Can sculpt from ruin something real, Such is the dreamer's hardened deal. Through cables, gears, and ticking hearts, These dreams persist where darkness starts. Emissaries of hope, they stand, Holding tomorrow in their hand.

We all live the lives we’ve earned

In the depths where shadows weave, Lies the Kingdom of Memories, A cavern deep, where echoes cry, Of every soul that passed by. Each skull a story, silently told, Of dreams once bright, now dark and cold. A spectral guardian holds the key, To lives once lived, and destinies. With every hunt, its collection grows, A silent witness to unseen woes. The choices made, the paths we tread, Gather here, among the dead. This cave, a throne of bone and dread, Reflects the lives that we have led. In this realm of ghostly whispers, Lies the weight of all life's twisters. Each fragment of bone, a tale of strife, A reminder of the fleeting life. The creature stirs, with every breath, A mosaic of life, and of death. So tread softly where spirits dwell, In the Kingdom of Memories, where stories swell. For in this crypt of silent screams, We face the truth of what life deems.

We all experience a world war within our lifetime. It rages within the world we carry inside

In the realm where shadows dwell and silence warns, A legacy not of light, but of eerie dark forms. The Dark Warden walks a path so stern, In his heart, the world’s wars internally churn. Each step he takes, the ancient cycle he bears, Absorbing the evils that humanity ensnares. Within his gaze, a thousand conflicts hide, Mirroring the battles we each carry inside. His slumber deep, centuries he'll rest, While the world’s darkest forces silently infest. Yet within us all, the same wars rage, Our inner realms the truest battlefield stage. Upon his awakening, darkness anew, He releases the evils the world once knew. Yet recognize within this spectral bane, The reflection of our own internal pain. So continues the legacy of the Dark Warden’s fate, A mirror to our struggles, both small and great. For within each soul, a world war resides, In the silent tempests that each heart hides.

Treat a person like an enemy and that is what they shall become

In the fire of fury, his sword ablaze, He carves through the night, his soul’s dark maze. Each life he claims, a spirit freed, Haunting his steps, a cursed deed. With every stroke, a beast takes form, From friend to foe, a heart is torn. For he who sees through a hostile lens, Finds only foes, no space for friends. Beneath the armor, beneath the steel, Lies a weary heart that longs to feel. But fear’s cold grip, and trust’s demise, Turn allies to shadows before his eyes. Chains forged by battles, endlessly fought, Bonds of war, with sorrow wrought. A hunter hunted by his own fierce game,In every reflection, an enemy’s name. Thus, he wanders, forever bound, To a sword that calls, where spirits hound. A cycle grim, a fateful loop, Where souls of the fallen forever regroup. In the dance of flames, in the cry of the wild, The truth whispers softly to the wayward child: Beware the path where distrust is sown, For seeds of enmity, once cast, are grown.

There is no greater drive than the drive to escape hell

In the realm where shadows writhe and wail, A specter burns, enchained and pale, Bound by time’s relentless chain, Each tick a link of searing pain. Clocks float, unseen yet ever near, Their ticking whispers all too clear, For every time one fades away, Another blooms to mark the fray. This ghastly figure, trapped in fire, Consumed by an unquenched desire, To flee this hell of endless night, Where clocks ignite the endless fight. Each second's pulse, a cruel tease, Promising end, yet never frees. A constant hope to break the bind, The strongest drive that one can find. Through darkest trials, we find our might, In depths of despair, our souls ignite. The urge to flee from shadow’s grasp, Drives us beyond the hellish clasp. Thus, in the throes of deepest blues, Emerges strength, from harsh dues. For in the fight to regain our light, Lies a power, vast and bright.

People who keep getting away with shit never slow down

In shadows deep, where whispers creep, A specter wields his blade so keen, With each dark deed his soul does bleed, Yet power grows where light has been. Clad in night’s embrace, a fearsome face, A husk of man, once whole and bright, With every gem, he claims from them, His human heart slips from the light. For unchecked vice, he pays the price, With fiery eyes and spirit torn, Yet on he goes, where no wind blows, In silent boast, he scorns the morn. Each stolen prize, beneath cold skies, Brings might and curse in equal share, A path he chose, where darkness grows, A soul condemned to bleak despair. Thus tales unfold, of hearts grown cold, Of men who grasp with greedy hands, The thief's dark art consumes the heart, In cursed steps, through shadowed lands.

Having a choice isn’t always a good thing. It is by far better to have no choice when you’re trying to eliminate the option of giving up

In the glow of moonlit threads, the goblin stands, His gnarled fingers weaving fate’s demanding strands. With scissors sharp, he cuts with careful grace, Each snip a choice, each choice a narrowed space. Emerald eyes, alight with eerie fire, Pierce through the maze of every heart's desire. For him, the paths that sprawl like tangled roots, Are pruned to one where o retreat imputes. No retreat, whispers the wind through threadbare seams, As he excises all but one from dreams. By his own hand, the manifold is spurned, Leaving but the path where victory’s earned. For though the power of choice can steer us wide, It’s in the lack thereof we're oft supplied With the sheer force to grasp the singular goal, To march unswayed, a resolute, whole soul. So in the night, this spectral seamster weaves, Decisive in the tapestry he leaves. For choice, though vast, may lead us to defer, Yet with no choice, there’s only forward to incur.

The world only sees when it is forced to

In realms where shadows dance and sway, An artisan of sight holds sway. His fingers craft with arcane grace, Each orb, a gateway to embrace. Through mists of truth, these eyes are born, In forge of starlight and of thorn. He gifts the blind their missing part, A chance to see, a brand new start. For truths lie veiled in plainest sight, Oblivious to day and night. But with these eyes, the veils thin, Revealing depths held deep within. Yet truths, like storms, must gather force, To shift the stubborn, chart a course. And only when denial breaks, Does clarity its throne retake. So purchase here, if bold you stand, A truth-seer’s eye, from craftsman's hand. Awaken to the world’s sharp call, See the unseen, once and for all.

The hardest goals are achieved over years of invisible incremental progress

In a realm where colors and forms intertwine, A tale unfolds, of patience divine. Two souls, cast in nature’s grand play, With vine and thorn, their roles they assay. He, a warrior of bark and stormy skies, Brandishing a sword where his sacrifice lies. Each petal fallen, a step on a path so steep, A journey of years, where progress creeps. She, woven from the whispers of scarlet hue, Holds a rose, as their rendezvous grew. A symbol of love, hard-won and pure, Enduring trials that one must endure. The last petal, a testament to time, To earn her heart, a mountain he'd climb. Together at last, through struggles unseen, In their union, the vines serenely convene. For not in a burst does true worth appear, But in quiet moments, year after year. The hardest of goals, through invisible threads, Weave slowly the fabric where triumph treads.

Never let a strong emotion go to waste

In the heart of battle's wild embrace, A knight in scarlet fury, face to face With demons dark, his anger uncontained, Harnesses rage, his sword blood-stained. Upon the swirls of crimson tide, The foe beneath his feet does bide, Each stroke a clash where passions scream, Fueled by a fire that's more than dream. For when the heart's aflame with fervor true, Such mighty force can break the rue, Transform the might of raw emotion’s blast Into a power, steadfast and vast. No fleeting fury shall go to waste, In dire moments, fiercely embraced. With every heartbeat, fuel the fight, To conquer shadows, seek the light. Let not the strength of stormy will Fade unspent or lay still Channel the tempest, face the test, In battles fierce, reveal your best.

Don’t surround yourself with people who expect very little of you

Upon a rooftop, high above the mundane, A man sits alone, where dreams are not slain. Below him, a world rigid and real, But here in the sky, his spirit can feel. The city a backdrop, stark lines of constraint, His solitude a canvas, without taint or complaint. A universe blooms, a whimsical sight, Where stars dance with butterflies in the calm of the night. Each whimsical creature, each flicker of light, Speaks of potential that soars out of sight. For those who expect little, their vision confined, Cannot fathom the breadth of an unshackled mind. Magic unfurls where the dreamers dare sit, Away from the voices that diminish and flit. In his quiet retreat from the world's weary noise, He crafts a reality of hope and of poise. Let no soul be tethered by another’s dim view, For each of us holds a unique cue. Like him on the roof, with the stars overhead, Find where your own whispered dreams are led.

Once I saw the face of the abyss I made a decision to never look away

In the midst of raging storms and howling gales, A warrior's heart, undaunted, never fails. Facing the monstrous maw that gapes so wide, A fierce determination burns inside. Through lightning's flash and thunder's roaring might, The young soul stands resolute in the fight. With blade in hand and courage as his guide, He vows to meet the abyss, come what may, unflinching. For in that gaping chasm, dark and deep, Lies truth unveiled, no longer cloaked in sleep. To turn away would mean to live a lie, A coward's path he'll never dignify. Though monstrous jaws may snap and claws may rend, This hero's gaze stays fixed until the end. For in the abyss's depths, he clearly sees The world unveiled, in all its harsh realities. No shroud of ignorance can blind his sight, He's chosen to embrace the fullest light. With rhymes that echo through the tempest's wail, His resolve remains, his spirit will not fail.

Only the treadmill can tell you who you really are

In the blaze of trials, a figure swift, With layers of steel and soul adrift, Runs through fire, truth laid bare, In searing heat, with burning glare. No mask can hide, no armor conceal, The essence forged in the furnace real, As steps pound hard on the fiery ground, Inner strength in silence found. For in the flame’s relentless chase, True self emerges, face to face, Stripped of pretense, raw and pure, Adversity’s test, the only cure. To know oneself, to see inside, Through challenges faced, with courage and pride, In the inferno's light, the soul revealed, Only in struggle, is identity sealed.

Reinforce the mind against specific running mental obstacles accumulating new lines into targeted playlists

In a cosmos alight with sparks and flame, A young guardian stands, his purpose the same. With wand in hand, he weaves his art, Catching melodies that from stars depart. Each glass jar, a vessel for his sonic feats, Where harmonies glow and rhythm meets. On a keyboard, his battlefield of choice, He commands the notes, giving them voice. "Fortify the mind," the ancient call, With every tone that from the heavens fall. Against the shadows of mental strife, His melodies carve a vibrant life. With every line of defense he scripts in sound, A fortress of resolve, in music bound. In his jars, these tunes he seals, Armors of courage, amid cosmic reels. Each challenge met with a musical phrase, Harmonies combat the mental haze. These jars he fills, not with mere air, But with anthems of a soul laid bare. Thus he stands, his stance unwavering, In his symphonic forge, endlessly laboring. With each note secured, his spirit bold, Ready to face the dark and cold. This is his craft, his resonant fight, Where chords shield and melodies ignite. In this grand orchestra of the night, He finds his strength, his will, his light.

Rock bottom had become my home, and then suddenly, one day, without notice, I was evicted.

Amid the depths, where shadows dwell, An entity, a story to tell. Roots entwined with darkest fears, Eyes aglow, born from tears. Hands of timber, reach and coil, From soil's grip, a silent toil. Leaves whisper secrets of the night, In this abyss, devoid of light. Yet from the depths, a hope ignites, A sudden surge, breaking plights. From rock's embrace, these roots did grow, A strength found where no one can go. Bound by the past, yet freed anew, Hands uplift, as winds blew through. No further fall to depths unseen, For in the low, a power gleaned. Rock's foundation, once a cage, Now the ground from which to stage A rise, unbidden, swift and stark, A luminous, piercing, brilliant arc.

Push the mind and the body will follow

In the realms of thought where battles are fought, A titan of mind, in cranial bind, Chained not by flesh, but ideas afresh. His fists are clenched, his neurons entrenched. Inside his head, where dread is shed, A warrior stands, with mental commands. Muscles of steel, powered by zeal, Not of the bone, but thoughts alone. When the mind's embrace takes on the chase, The limbs enact the dreams intact. From tales of old, where brave are bold, The body strides where thought presides. This steel-forged beast, from mind released, Echoes the sage, on wisdom's stage. Faced with a test, at mind's behest, The flesh will soar, where thoughts implore.

Listen to the frequency of your thoughts and you’ll discover who you care about the most

In the cosmic silence deep and vast, A figure sits, future and past. With stars for skin and nebula eyes, Amidst the whispers of celestial sighs. Each thought a spark, a gleaming thread, Woven through the cosmos spread. In the rhythm of its pulsing glow, The measure of affection shows. Who haunts the mind when stars align? Whose essence stirs this soul divine? In meditation's quiet dance, Revealed are those who hold the trance. Thus, in the mind’s enduring flight, Is shown whom in the heart sits right. For oft’ the thoughts one does compose, Tell of the love that quietly grows.

Half of all opposition comes from within

In a world split by shadow and light, Two faces emerge from the cosmic night. One laughs with vigor, a wild spark, The other calm, guiding through the dark. With wings of might, they soar and sway, Tools in hand, shaping the fray. A brush strokes the winds, a pipe dreams the sound, In their unity, life’s canvas is found. Here lies the lesson within their twine, Our struggles, too, both yours and mine. From forces outside and the turmoil within, Each battle we face, half external, half kin. These beings meld, their essence a guide, Showing us life is both tide and stride. In every hardship, duality’s dance, Invites us to grow, to change, to enhance.

Better a shot at a great life than the promise of a mediocre one

In the verdant glen beneath the moonlit hue, A goblin green, with eyes of fiery tune, Scours the earth with hands so deft and keen, Dreaming of emeralds that gleam unseen. Daring through the night with no fears shown, For treasures that lie in the deep, unknown. Better to chase the stars, no matter how slight, Than wander in shadows of the comfort's light. For within the clasp of risk and venture bold, Lies the path to stories yet untold. A leap towards the brilliant and the rare, Ignoring the call of the secure and the fair. So, let not your spirit be tamed or sold, For the allure of safety in the ordinary mold. Seek instead the thrill that stirs the soul, In pursuit of the prize that makes one whole.

Money printing is a game of musical chairs and when the music stops everyone holding paper will be fucked

In a realm where starlight flows and glimmers bright, Upon strange trees they sit, under the night. Each silent figure on their perch so grand, Holds not a coin of gold within their hand. For in this dance of cosmic ebb and flow, The music's whimsy only few will know. A game of chairs in celestial courts, Where fiat falls and sounder money sorts. The flares of wings in gentle, haunting sweeps, Whisper of losses vast where paper weeps. Beneath the stars, where wise ones dare not cling To promises of paper, frail and thin. Those left in dark with empty hands will see The cost of printed dreams' fragility. And as the music halts without a sound, They find their fortunes lost, their hopes unbound.

There is no gold within the treasure chest at the bottom of the rainbow. Just a mirror and some bandages. The mirror to show you your prize: the person the journey made you and the bandages to patch up your cuts and bruises and set off toward the next adventure

At the rainbow's end, under starlit skies, A mythical figure with fiery eyes, Unlocks a chest where secrets sleep, In depths of night, where shadows creep. He seeks not gold, nor silver's gleam, But finds a mirror in the dream, Reflecting back the soul it sees, The essence of his victories. This mirror holds no common face, But tales of trials, strength, and grace, For every step on winding roads, Transforms the bearer, reshapes the codes. The real treasure, gleaming bright, Is not in riches hidden from sight, But in the journey that shapes the will, In the fires of trials that teach and thrill. Each adventure carves its mark deep, In the spirit's forge, where convictions leap, And the greatest prize to ever own is the wisdom gained and the growth shown. So let the quest never cease, For self-discovery brings the greatest peace. More precious than any earthly sum, Is the person through hardships you become.

Dragons aren’t slain in a day

In the realm where dragon whispers sway, A maiden strides where shadows play. Her steps ascend through spiral night, Where serpents coil in ceaseless fight. A glowing trail her spirit weaves, Through gnarled roots and dragon leaves. Each stair she climbs, a story told, Of courage fierce and valor bold. For dragons, see, are not just beasts, But metaphors for life's great feasts. And she, in light ethereal dressed, Must face the trial, endure the quest. Not in a day do dragons fall, Nor silenced is their ancient call. It's step by step, with patient heart, That heroes rise and make their start. So up she goes, where dragons wind, Their eyes like stars, their fates entwined. For in each step, and each small gain, She learns that growth comes dressed in pain. Thus, let her climb, and never yield, And in her journey, be revealed: That dragons' defeat, in tales spun gold, Takes time, and heart, and souls bold.

A single idea may save the world

In a cosmos draped in twilight hues, A figure born of stardust and the muse, Winds its limbs like ancient trees, Whispers secrets to the cosmic seas. From its fingertips, a lotus blooms, Exuding light to dispel the glooms; Each petal a testament, an arcane lore, A single spark can open doors. In this dance of shadow and flame, A thought can bear a world's new name. From such a seed, great forests grow, Where once lay naught but void and woe. Behold this tender, celestial birth, A gentle idea that might save the Earth. For in each mind, a universe swirls, Held in the heart of boys and girls.

It is the choices we make in our darkest hours that defines who we are. Not the flavor of the ice cream we choose in paradise

In the night’s somber shroud, a dark figure stands, A master of shadows with chains in his hands. Ahead, the forlorn, their innocence chained, Eyes wide with despair, their freedom restrained. Through gloom’s thick veil, his path he weaves, A tale of choices that no one perceives. Not in daylight’s embrace where trivialities lie, But in the clutch of the storm, under a tempest-tossed sky. For what are the flavors of comfort’s sweet call, When the test of one’s mettle is the hardest of all? It’s not in paradise where true selves show, But in desperate hours, through pain and woe. In the face of despair, what paths will he choose? When all could be lost, what does he stand to lose? It is here in the shadows that truth comes to light, Revealing the essence obscured from plain sight. Thus, march the forgotten, led through the dark, By choices unseen that leave a permanent mark. For it's not the comfort's choice in hand, But the decisions in darkness where true characters stand.

Shackle yourself to reality and measurable results and never let go

Amidst shadows deep, a creature twirls, Bound by numbers, its spirit unfurls. With gears and dials across its frame, In the dance of digits, it finds its acclaim. Eyes aglow with a fiery hue, It whispers secrets only known to a few: "In the realm of facts, we must firmly stand, For the power of truth is at our command." From fabled myths, it draws no breath, Its strength lies in what's concrete—defying death. Tangled in numbers, roots dug deep, It guards the gate where realities seep. Engraved with symbols of time and space, Its laughter echoes in an ancient place. Clutching reality’s unyielding thread, It charts a course where many dread to tread. For in the grasp of data's embrace, It sees the world's true, unmasked face. Guided by knowledge, not led astray, This creature thrives where others sway. So heed its lesson, hold it near, The tangible world is the frontier. And in this quest, no myth does beat, The rhythm of numbers, precise and sweet.

There is no greater scar than an easy childhood

In a world ablaze, a tender sprite does mourn, Where embers lift as dreams forlorn. A visage marked by life's harsh scorn, In eyes, the weight of tempests borne. Her wings aglow, a fire's breath, Yet, cold the air that whispers death. Beneath the flame, her fragile grace, Encircles strength, time can't erase. For though the fire scars her youth, In every line lies hidden truth. What gentle days may never teach, The trials of fire, boldly reach. Through tears that cleanse, through pain that molds, A spirit wiser, far more bold. And as she rises from the ash, Her heart alight with each harsh lash. No gentle hand did carve her path, But rugged trails and nature's wrath. Yet stronger still her wings do beat, Against a world that's bittersweet. The easy paths might never mark, The deeper cuts in tender bark. But flames that shape her mournful cries, Craft wings robust for stormy skies.

Always push back against fear no matter how small and courage will be there when you need it the most

In realms of night where shadows dwell, A hero stands, unseeing yet so brave. Against a tide of terror, under hell's dark spell, With sword in hand, his fate he dares to crave. Blindfolded eyes may not perceive the threat, Yet heart beats steady, pulsing fierce and strong. For he has learned in smaller scares to set A stage where fear is faced, and courage throngs. Monstrous foes with glowing eyes converge, A symphony of screams beneath the moon. But he, undaunted, on the battle's verge, Finds strength in trials past, a fortuned boon. So face the small with valor unpretended, And when the greatest fears at last are bended, In that dire hour, courage, long extended, Shall rise like dawn, triumphant and splendid.

Go all in enough times and you become immune to the fear of losing it all when the move is right

In a cavern dark, where skulls do line the trail, A goblin strides, his courage not to fail. Behind the door, where demon eyes aglow, He seeks a treasure, risking all he knows. "Go all in," whispers fate, "and you'll see, Fear's grip will loosen, set your spirit free. For when you bet it all, the heart grows bold, And in the fire of risk, your fears turn cold." With each step forward, on this daunting path, He trades his safety for a chance at wrath. Yet in his heart, a fire burns so bright, To win great riches in the dead of night. Thus, he who dares to face the beast’s own lair, Learns that to risk is to strip fear bare. The wise know well, this game of chance and fate, Where being fearless renders one first-rate. So through the door, the goblin makes his bet, A lesson in courage we must not forget. For only those who gamble with their all, Can hope to rise, and never fear to fall.

We are living within the sum of our weakest decisions and our most powerful moments

In celestial bath, the sage immerses deep, A mathematician with galaxies to sweep. His body maps the scars of time's intense weave, Where decisions, weak or strong, interleave. Cracked skin of cosmos, glowing lava bright, Showcases victories and failures in his light. Each line a tale of choices made, for worse or best, In this cosmic tub, history's waters crest. Around him float the planets, cold and grim, Witnesses to the power his mind could trim. With numbers as his sword, equations as his might, He battles through the universe, a knight. The tub, a vessel of the cumulative sum, Of weakest moments and triumphs that have come. Bathing in the outcome of his storied fight, He gazes at the stars, his constant guiding light. Reflect, oh wise one, in this cosmic scene, On all the paths where once your feet have been. Each calculation, a step on the vast chessboard, In the bath of consequence, forever moored.

The first stop of any conquest should be one's own inner realm

In a realm where stars weave night's own crown, A girl and beast, in swirls of dusk and dawn, Her steely gaze meets wild eyes, deep and drawn, A battle waged not outward, but deep down. She stands in armor crafted from her dreams, Her sword a glinting edge of dawn's first light, Against a wolf, whose fur is night's own plight, Both bound by more than merely what it seems. This duel, a dance within the soul's own keep, Where gears of mind and heart must sync to thrive, For mastery within is how we strive. To hold our reigns, before the leaps so steep. No beast so wild that will not find its peace, In conquering the storms that within cease.

To those living in the swamp the poison becomes invisible. But it’s still poison

In a realm where mystic mushrooms tower, A wise old sage, with power to devour, Sits 'neath the ancient trees so high, Inhaling fumes that through the branches fly. Beneath the lantern’s gentle glow, Where twisted branches dare to grow, The air thick with a fog so green, Conceals the truth not easily seen. With every puff from his bamboo pipe, Unseen toxins, of every type, Fill his lungs with deceptive ease, Camouflaged by the whispering trees. Those that dwell within this mire, May not perceive the hidden fire. A venom veiled as mist so sweet, Lays a trap beneath their feet. Yet still he sits, unblinking eyes, Old and wise, and worldly wise. For though the air may seem pristine, What’s familiar, remains unseen. Through years it gathers, silent, slow, The poison’s bloom, in shadow’s glow. Invisible chains from habit's forge, Bind the sage to his emerald gorge.

You stop fearing shadows once you encounter real monsters

In the heart of night where shadows play, A warrior clad in starlit fray. His armor gleams, a vibrant blaze, Guided by the azure gaze. With sword of light, he carves the dark, A radiant arc in stark contrast stark. For fears once cloaked in night's embrace, Now fade before his fearsome chase. No longer haunted by whispers slight, He faces beasts in open fight. And learns the truth as old as time, Real dangers dwarf fears of the mind. Through trials fierce and battles worn, His soul reborn in light reborn, The shadows that once danced with dread, Now mere memories where he's led.

There is a moment of awareness. A moment when you know if I get up on that horse I’m going to have to ride and face monsters. And then you do it

Beneath the swirling silver moon, aloft in night's embrace, A child and a steed of sapphire hue take flight with fearsome grace. The wind, it whispers secrets, through manes as wild as seas, And eyes that glow with courage, despite the chill of breeze. In clouds like cotton ramparts, they ride the boundless sky, A pact of silent understanding, no need to question why.

The best way to improve your drive toward that which matters to you most is to become a purer version of yourself

In the galaxy’s quiet embrace, under starlit gaze, A lover’s face etched in lines of silent blaze. A man, a myth, his heart a raging fire, Holds dear the image of love, his deepest desire. His touch is a whisper, his thoughts a loud scream, Chasing the ghost of her in every dream. As muscle and metal, so vividly shown, Reveal the pure heart that beats beneath the unknown. To find his true essence, strip away the veneer, The more he is real, the more she feels near. For in the purity of self, no shadows cast, Only love that is true, steadfast and vast. His drive, a beacon that lights up the night, Is fueled by love, by doing what’s right. For the closer he gets to his core, so raw, The more his soul, without falter, does draw. So sculpted in fire, and crafted in pain, His journey to self. a love not in vain. For as he becomes what he’s truly meant to be, He clings to the love, that sets him free.

I fear no low previously discovered

In realms of fire and brimstone's blaze, An icy form ascends the haze. Beneath, the ghastly faces leer, A symphony of pain and fear. Yet upward climbs the frost-bound soul, From fiery pits that once were coal. Around him screams may pierce the night, But his blue aura sheds calm light. For in this climb, no dread he holds of paths once crossed, of tales retold. The fires that once would sear and char Now guide his steps to realms afar. With every step on heated rung, A lesson learned, a fear unstrung. What once was unknown, now a friend— On known terrors, he can depend. Thus, he rises through the fright, From darkest depths into the light. No longer does the unknown bind, For courage lives in the tested mind.

The majority of the population will always be under the firm belief that the world is flat and burn at the stake all who say otherwise

Amidst the flames that lick the night, A goblin stands, a fearsome sight. With hat tipped low, his eyes agleam, He guards the gate 'twixt now and dream. With pistols drawn, he challenges fate, Burning the bridges to thoughts sedate. He smirks at progress, sets it aflame, A guardian of norms, forever the same. The masses cling to what is known, Fearful of seeds of change once sown. Our goblin revels in their fright, A spectral warden in the night. Thus, innovation faces scorn, Met with fire before it’s born. Yet, future's march is ever bold, Beyond the goblin's fearful hold. In this vivid, burning scene, The old fears clash with hopes unseen. Though flames may rise and crackle with fury, The spark of change tells a different story.

It is through the reading of stories telling of other worlds that we come to understand our own

In armor wrought from starlight's sheen, A child of realms unseen, Whose helm conceals the tender eyes That leap where fantasy flies. With pages turning in their hands, Across the mystic, star-swept lands, They draw the magic from the lore, Where tales and truths forevermore Blend worlds of others with their own, In starry ink, their thoughts are sown. From tales of distant, dreamy spires, Ignites the self's unspoken fires. For every legend, every plight, Bestows a vision through the night. In books, our spirits take to flight, And bring us closer to the light. Through others' journeys, vast and wild, We find the heart of every child, The stories spun of yore and now, Teach us to dream, to live, to vow. To understand our path and place, Through every character we face. The power of stories, vast and grand, Unites the cosmos, hand in hand.

A heart is only full when it is at risk of being broken

In a cosmic waltz beneath the starlit skies, Two silhouettes blend where the darkness lies. Woven from stardust, in shades of deep purple hue, Their forms intertwine, creating a view sublime and true. He, a shadow sculpted from the night’s own heart, With spirals for eyes, where the universe starts. She, a mirror of him, with curls that embrace The light of a star held in tender grace. Their hands meet, a connection so fierce, A tale of love that the heavens could pierce. In the dance of their touch, in the sweep of their arms, Lies a perilous beauty, a spell of celestial charms. For love, like the stars, burns bright and consumes, Risking all in the blaze, it fearlessly resumes. To love is to risk the shatter and ache, But only through peril does true love awake. In this galaxy of passion, where lovers dare, Is the ultimate truth that they bravely share: That hearts never fill from safety or stealth, But by risking their break, they find their true wealth.

Up must become down. And down must become up

In the realm where shadows twist and sway, A dance of bone beneath the moon's grey ray, Where demons duel with fiery scorn, The world inverts from dusk till morn. Through purple haze, these hellish shades, Wield swords where light and darkness trades. For in this chaos, truth is spun— The strongest steel is forged from none. In this inferno's heart, cries rend the night, Pain molds the soul, endowing might. What seems below, now soars above, In twisted realms, loss breeds love. Embrace the blaze where softness fades, Amongst the dead, true strength parades. Here lies the cost, the price of power— In darkest depths, the brave devour. A spectacle of paradox in each fierce fight, What once was weakness, now alight. In every stroke, and every thrust, Emerges order born from dust.

The first version of yourself you discover. The second version you create

In crimson shade and armor gleam, two beings stand apart, One forged in dawn’s reflective light, the other cloaked in dark. Born from void, the first does rise, a form by fate composed, Molded by the silent pull of forces yet unopposed. Beneath its gaze, a heart alight with nascent, glowing core, A body built by time’s own hand, on life’s uncharted shore. Yet not confined by nature’s bound, this entity shall seek To craft from cosmic dust and dreams, the self that it may be. In shadows deep, the second form, with eyes like ember’s fire, Reveals the art of conscious will, the sculptor of desire. Adorned in threads of choice and chance, it stands a vision new, The architect of its own path, where old gives way to true. So here they face, the past and yet-to-be in stark contrast, The journey from the known to dreamed, from first frame to the last. For every soul begins as clay, untouched by thought or hand, Until the day it shapes itself, by will’s resounding command.

When your life gets interesting enough you stop watching television. When the game of life gets fun enough you stop playing video games

In the verdant realm where secrets dwell, A sage with golden arms walks where the tales swell. His journey vast, through misty glades, Beyond the grasp of shadowed shades. He forges paths where rivers weave, His life a tapestry that breaths weave. No need for crafted tales or rhymes, His existence, a dance through time. With every step upon the stair, He finds a world uncommonly fair. Adventure's heart beats loud and clear, In the pulse of the wild, he holds dear. This sage, in nature's grand embrace, Finds all he needs in the earth’s grace. His days filled with vibrant lore, Where real life offers so much more.

We are prisoners of the perceptions of those around us. Trapped in the roles they assigned us. It is only following the moments in which we reveal that there is far more to us than the tiny label we have been assigned that the perception widens and we are allowed to reveal a bit more of ourselves till new temporary final limits are established

In a realm where darkness veils the sky, A warrior stands, his aura nigh. Bound by chains of silent views, Labels stick as morning dews. His essence lost in shadows cast, By those who judge as they walk past. But in his heart, a light does gleam, Breaking bounds in a silent scream. With every shard, the barriers fall, He rises high, above them all. A soul that fights through stifling ties, Revealing layers beneath the guise. From label to label, they see him change, Yet never grasp, it’s all his range. Each shattered view brings forth a new, A cycle endless, breaking through. This dance of masks, a game so old, Where true selves are rarely bold. Yet he persists, his spirit free, A testament of what can be. In endless quest to prove his worth, Beyond the confines of his birth. A warrior's fight from dusk till dawn, With every break, a new label gone.

The person I am trying to become will forever outrun me

In the cosmic dance of stars and gleam, Two beings chase, or so they seem, One of verdant hues and tranquil rest, Another ahead, by future's quest. The first adorned in leaf and vine, In his pursuit, forever confined, His outstretched hand grasps for the morrow, Seeking himself, in time borrowed. The second, a shadow just out of reach, Whispers of wisdom he does beseech, A tale of growth that never ceases, In this eternal chase, he finds his pieces. For every stride towards who he'll be, Another path unfolds, and he's set free, An endless race through stardust's weave, The self he seeks, he shall never retrieve. Yet in this chase, the beauty lies, For each new self, another guise, And though he'll never clasp the breeze, He's the sculptor of his destinies.

We are all soldiers in service of the dreams of our younger selves

In a cosmos swirling with neon dreams and light, A giant clad in armor, a sentinel in night, Holds aloft a fragile hourglass, glowing bright, Guided by a child, a keeper of the timeless flight. Astride the cosmic flows, the paths we carve and find, Are whispers of our youth, echoing in the mind, Each step a dance, a puppet's grace, threads intertwined, To the dreams once dreamt in hearts we left behind. The child leads, a silent commander of the scene, His will, a force that bends the time in between, With each grain that falls, his future self is gleaned, A soldier forged by visions only he had seen. Our journeys are but shadows cast by younger glees, In the echoes of our laughter, in the silent pleas, We march, unwitting warriors through cosmic seas, Fulfilling oaths to selves whispered in the breeze.

The reason neo could fly wasn’t because he was the fastest, strongest, toughest or smartest. It was because his mind was most able to break free from the constraints of reality and what a person should not be able to do

In the realm where shadows cling to night, A knight, in scarlet streams so bright, Leaps forth from chains of what we know, Beyond where thought or reason go. No swiftness of his limbs, nor might, Nor armor wrought from darkest plight, But from his mind, unbound and free, Springs forth his rarest potency. Against the world's confining creed, With soul unfettered, he does lead, To realms where only dreamers soar, Where thought transcends, begins to roar. He breaks the bonds with every stride, His very essence magnified. What's deemed impossible to reach, In minds unleashed, finds easy breach. For not by strength alone we rise, But by the dreams that fill our skies. Belief, the wing on which we fly, On paths where limits dare not lie.

The more you practice discipline the better you get at it. Eventually you can’t escape it. It becomes a prison. But the good kind. Like a prison of productivity. One where you choose the walls and the inmates. The kind you don’t want to escape. The kind where you keep building up the walls. Because it’s the best place you’ve ever been and you never want to leave

In clouds of vibrant hues entwined, a portrait framed by will refined, Where discipline's embrace, a cell, wraps 'round a maiden's spell. Her sanctuary made of dreams, where order reigns and purpose teems, A warden of her own design, within the bounds she's drawn the line. The walls she builds each day anew, of habits good and virtues true, A prison that does not confine, but lifts her soul to heights sublime. Her hands the sculptors of her fate, within this cell that love creates, A lock not wrought in iron's chill, but forged by own resilient will. Here, the discipline's a friend, a means to craft, not just to mend, In hues that swirl both night and day, her colors show the brighter way. Each stroke a choice, each choice a stone, in walls that feel like home alone, The freedom found in structure's hold, a story of her making, told. For what's a prison if by choice, where silent walls echo her voice? A citadel of self so dear, where she's the queen and none are near. Not bars of steel nor locks of dread, but lines of life beautifully led, In discipline, her spirit's wings, in structured bounds, her freedom sings.

There is no making fear extinct. There is only overcoming it every single day

Beneath a sky of golden haze, Where clouds like cotton set ablaze, A young boy, wise beyond his days, Casts his line where danger plays. Amidst a sea where sharks do throng, With jaws that snap and tails that throng, He sits serene, both calm and strong, Where fear's song swirls, he sings along. Each dawn, the water's wild call, With scenes that might most hearts appall, Yet every day, he breaks fear’s wall, With courage, he stands tall. For fear, though fierce, will never flee, It swirls like winds that roar at sea, But with each cast, brave and free, He masters fear — the key. Each shark that leaps, each fin that glides, Within the chaos, he confides, That fear is something that abides, Yet daily, he defies. So in this twilight, surreal and stark, A lesson blooms, within this arc: Fear's not a beast to banish dark, But a dance to learn, to make one's mark.

Conceal from yourself the description of your tasks and prioritize only the description of their impact

In the heart of a storm's fierce swirl, A creature's hands unfurl, Grasping an orb of swirling light, Beneath the moon, a beacon bright. For through the howl of winter's breath, It braved the icy kiss of death, A knight of frost, a wisp, a shade, A saber's glow against the glade. Amidst the blizzard's silent scream, It sought not glory, wealth, or dream, But the touch of change, unseen, unheard, The silent power of deed, not word. No word of task, no boast of deed, For true intent is sown as seed, In actions bearing warmth to hearts, That’s where true transformation starts. Through sleet and chill, it carved a path, An aftermath of warmth, not wrath, For in the grasp of icy thrall, The orb's effect would tell it all.

Most physical challenges are just debates you have with yourself about whether you’re going to quit or not

Beneath the starlit cosmic dome, Where whispers of the void find home, An angel glides with feathered grace, A fiery path, she dares embrace. Wings of white, so broad, so light, Lift her through the endless night. Eyes aglow with azure fire, Reflect a soul that won't retire. For in her flight, a silent plea, A battle fought internally, Where muscles ache and breath may sear, She conquers doubt, she sheds her fear. Not flesh nor bone dictate her pace, But will that time cannot erase. Each beat, a drum, it's more than sound, A testament to strength unbound. In every stride, her essence burns, Past limits of what flesh discerns. Her spirit races through the draft, Defies the urge to halt, to raft. No whispered lie, no siren's call, Can tempt her fiery feet to fall. For every challenge, loft or grim, Is but a quiet hymn within. In heated veins, the truth does twirl, The only foe, her own resolve. Her steps ignite the shadowed space, A dance of light, a timeless chase. So let her run, through stars and flame, A testament to the untamed. A phoenix's flight from ashes sprung, With fiery will, forever young.

There is no tough enough

In the crucible of flames, a warrior's test, Bound in the ropes of an unyielding quest. Muscles of iron, and heart forged in fire, A relentless pursuit that never does tire. His visage grim, a sentinel tough, Infernos within, yet still not enough Horns of intent, curve to the sky, "Further," he roars, "Before I die." Endless is the path where fate has him bent, Through the flames of trial, his will won't relent. An unspoken mantra, in the blaze, conceived, With each spark that flies, it's silently believed. For in the dance of firelight's embrace, He finds the future, he's sworn to face. A forge of spirit, no respite, no rest, In the flames, he seeks his ultimate test. So brace your spirit, tough as the drill, Beyond the peak, there’s a higher thrill. The warrior’s path, no end to strive, For there's always the blaze that keeps the drive alive.

Investing in crypto feels like you’re getting paid in dollars while everybody else is getting paid in walnuts

Beneath the copper skies aloft, Where gears and dreams do mesh and soft, A blue-furred tinker works with glee, For nuts, his wage, beneath the tree. With whiskers wide and eyes that gleam, He spins the wheel, lets off some steam, His toil for shells, so hard and round, While others' pockets green abound. In quirky hat, his thoughts do whirl, With cogs and springs, a single pearl, His labor's fruit, in wood-box bound, As world's new coin does most confound. This everyman with fur of teal, Feels weight of change, both odd and real, For what he earns, though earnest got, In market's eye, may count for naught. In sapphire hue, with wrench and wheel, He toils not for the joy or zeal, But necessity, for life's demand, In world where walnuts count as grand. The engine hums, the cogs they spin, A day's wage starts, where dreams wear thin, For in his grasp, the simple seed, Becomes the bread that mouths will feed. Around him coins from circuits sprung, And paper bills from presses flung, Yet in his hand, the nut's firm weight, Speaks of a simpler, steadier state. No joyous dance, nor merry jest, He works because he must, like rest, With steady hand and furrowed brow, The tinker's task is here and now. Each turn of gear, each nut secured, A day's work done, a living assured, No lesser worth in what he holds, In times when data turns to gold. His craft, a means to meet the end, Where walnut worth does not pretend, It's life's exchange, plain and taught, In the tinker's hand, the world's thought.

Stranded on an island in the middle of the ocean. An island filled with monsters that are the only meat around. As the years pass the island tricks us. It makes us forget true safety exists out there beyond the horizon

On isle of beasts, 'neath the moon's soft gaze, A solitary figure stands, unfazed. Monstrous shadows in the night do weave, Ocean's breath whispers, "Do not grieve." Cloaked in black, against the tide, Among the fiends with nowhere to hide. Yet on this land of tooth and claw, A peculiar comfort, without flaw. Years do wend, and memory fades, Of havens distant, tranquil glades. In peril's clutch, one forgets to yearn, For shores of peace, for which they spurn. Beneath the stars, a truth unspoken, Chains of fear, not easily broken. Yet beyond the dark, past fear's own treason, Lies the path to a brighter season. For even hearts in danger steeped, Have dreams of safety, while they slept. Remember the vastness of the sea, Promises a chance to flee, to be free.

The world is a chess board and in my own mind I was always the king who’s death meant the end of the game rather than a pawn or any other piece for some other player to use as a sacrifice

In a realm of scarlet skies and ruling night, A sovereign stands, his crown a blazing sight. Clad in rubied armor, a gleam in dark's embrace, His gaze alone commands, a burning, fearsome grace. Within the heart of whispers, where shadows play and bend, A ruler claims the board, a kingdom to defend. No pawn nor knight nor rook, his soul will never yield, For in the mind's grand game, it's he who owns the field. With wisdom's candle held, amidst the strategy and art, He moves through life’s grand chess, a master of his part. His death, not just a loss, but the end of regal dreams, For he's the monarch of his fate, within the cosmic streams. Each piece may have its role, within life’s grand design, But he shall be no less than king, in this vast, checkered line. So ponder now, oh crimson lord, with eyes that fiercely gleam, For only as your own true king, can you command the stream.

People who get upset over nonsense are simply people who haven’t found their game yet. Once you find your game nothing but the game matters

In a glade where embers dance and leap, Two fae maidens play, no peep. Winged of ice and one of fire, On a stump they quench desire. For their game is all that's real, The burning woods no threat to feel. The flames may lick and forest chars, But the queens and pawns are their true stars. Life's petty squabbles, a far-off dream, While over a checkered field they scheme. The game is all, their hearts' true beat, In its thrall, their bliss complete. For when you find that single aim, That turns life's work into a game, No trivial frets can quake your frame, For nothing matters, but the game.

There is no greater obstacle to getting ahead than being comfortable where you are

In the depths where shadows play, a creature grand did lay, Upon a throne of twisted swords, a crown atop his head. A ruler of the dark and damp, his subjects gave a cheer, For he was king of all below, the ground above, no fear. In halls of stone, he sat alone, with comfort as his steed, His kingdom vast, his power sure, he felt not want or need. No light of sun to urge him forth, to conquer realms unseen, For in the grip of snug content, ambition loses sheen. His form did swell, his vigor waned, amidst the silent cheer, Of those who thrived in dim delight, where day did not appear. But oh, what tales the world above could tell of land and sea, If only longing stirred within, to break complacency. Yet in his court of quietude, no whispers of the skies, No dreams of green or ocean blue did flicker in his eyes. For ease had built its gilded cage, and in it, he remained, The monarch of a muted world, where nothing new was gained. So let this tale of stillness deep be one to break the spell, Of comfort's sweet, seductive grasp, that keeps us far from well. For in the quest of more to seek, in yearning, we are driven, To leave behind the trodden path, for brighter stars in heaven.

What is given can be taken away. What is earned is inside you always

In cells of steel and twilight's gleam, Sits a soul where light and shadows beam. Beneath the moon, a silent plea, A figure bound, yet essence free. With eyes closed tight, the mind's eye sees, A garden grows, with vibrant keys. Petals spread where bars confine, Nature's child, both stark and fine. What hands can hold, may slip like sand, Yet what's sewn in self, forever stands. Roots entwined through flesh and vein, A spirit's growth, through loss or gain. Though wings are clipped, and space is small, The inner cosmos hears the call. A universe within, unmarred, By locks or chains, by bars or guard. In silent strength, he sits, he knows, Where freedom's clipped, the spirit grows. An inner flame that time can't sway, The self-made light, that guides the way. A testament to silent will, In cloistered walls, he blossoms still. For what is reaped from soul's own plot, Remains within, though freedom's not.

Your influence over the world is but an extension of your influence over yourself

In the realm where silence weaves, A creature sits, in peace it breathes, Entwined in self, a tangle of might, Its stillness roars, in whispers it fights. Limbs like rivers, flowing with grace, A willow of muscle, in tranquil embrace, It mirrors the night, an ebony shade, With antlers that reach for dawn's first parade. In meditation's hold, a formidable seat, With every calm breath, the world’s heartbeat, For the power within is the power without, In the core of one's soul, where control sprouts. The mind is a kingdom, where we reign, Where thoughts swirl like a hurricane, Yet in this figure, the tempests cease, Showing mastery’s path to inner peace. To sway the tides of outer spheres, First master oneself, through the years, So gaze upon this meditative stance, And know, within, lies the world's expanse.

Slay enough dragons and you become one

In armor wrought from battles past, A knight stands firm, his die is cast. For every dragon felled and scorned, In his soul, a new one born. With scales of valor, claws of might, His human form lost to the night. A metamorphosis, fierce and wild, The dragon's heart claims the child. He fought with fire, fought with blade, In every scar, his debts were paid. But look! Now wings from shoulders sprout, His human scream a dragon's shout. What once was man now breathes with flames, A creature that no fear tames. Behold the price of victories vast, Become the beast you slay, at last. The knight who dragons did ensnare, Finds in the mirror, dragon's stare. For strength like theirs, he yearned to don, Now stands the knight, the dragon's son.

You have to challenge the storm to find out who you are

In the clutch of howling winds, a child did stand, Clad in armor, with a sword in hand. Tiny feet rooted where the brave dare to dream, Facing the squall, part of a greater scheme. With every gust that bent the bough, The child's resolve would not allow A single step back in fear or dread, For within the maelstrom, their spirit spread. 'Gainst the tide of the roaring din, A young heart beats strong within. An untried valor put to test, To see if timorous, or valiantly blessed. Oh, little one 'midst the storm's embrace, Your challenge sings of an ancient grace. Where thunder rolls and the brave may quail, Your spirit, small, sets forth to sail. And thus, the child and tempest dance, A duel of fate and not of chance. For in the struggle, fierce and raw, One's essence blooms, unmarred, unflawed. So let the gales come as they must, And in their fury, we place our trust. For in their wrath, we're sculpted pure, Defined, refined, resolute and sure.

Succeed inside and you will succeed outside

In the cosmic track where stars align and gleam, There strides a titan, chasing the stellar dream. With circuits and sinew, a mechanical hulk, Its inner self, triumphant, with a trophy to sulk. This giant, this force, where the galaxies bend, Is more than its steps, or the paths that it wends. Inside, there's a man with a spirit that roars, With skulls as his chorus, he victoriously soars. His outer stride mighty, vast as the night, Is but a reflection of his inner fight. For what's won within, in the silence of space, Projects its power in the outermost race. Through nebulae's whispers and black hole's deep calls, The inner man's conquest is what truly enthralls. The monster's mere vessel for the soul that’s unfurled, For winning inside is what conquers the world.

Only way to beat an addiction is to care about something else more

In the verdant cradle of Mother's Embrace, Where blooms and leaves weave a tender space. A seed within, with life's gentle trace, Cradled by love, in nature's soft lace. A shadow looms, with talon and wing, The demon of want, a dark, twisted thing. Addiction's foul breath, and the despair it can bring, Yet she stands unyielded, to the life within cling. For in her womb, a future takes flight, A stronger pull than the demon's night. A battle unseen, yet fought with the light Of a mother's love, her heart's endless might. With each leafy fold, a barrier, a shield, To the specter's advance, she shall not yield. For the emotion she harbors can't be concealed, Her commitment to life is forever sealed. And thus, she stands, a testament, a sign, That from the darkest grip, we can all realign. For when a greater love in our hearts intertwine, Even addiction’s chains, we can redefine.

Strength is infectious. Thoughts of my future infect my present

In the realm of dreams and valor's test, A child before a giant stands abreast. No fear within his heart, just silent awe, Facing what seems a future without flaw. With sword in hand, the little warrior's stance, Mocks not the mighty one's electric dance. For strength begets strength in the cosmic dance, Present to future in a steadfast glance. The lightning's arc, a bond of power shared, A loop of might that's by the dreamer dared. The child's gaze, into the vortex deep, Sows seeds of courage that his soul will reap. The giant's frame, a fortress tall and vast, A silhouette of what will be amassed. And from this sight, the boy's resolve does glean, A future self in present thoughts unseen. He stands unyielding, bold, without dismay, As echoes of his future self convey. That strength is more than muscle, bone, and sinew, It's the spirit's fire that continues to renew. And so the boy, with dreams as his compass, Draws from his future strength that’s boundless. For in the company of giants, one's might Is not just drawn from sight but inner light. Through time's thin veil, the echoes resonate, "Grow strong," they whisper, "and dare to be great." For strength is caught, not just in muscle's weave, But in the visions that our hearts believe.

You can have anything you want in this universe. It just comes with a price you’re probably not willing to pay

In a realm of midnight hues and stardust sheen, A being thrived, where hearts are seldom seen. Its wings a canvas of the cosmos' gleam, A creature of the night, a whispered dream. This faerie of the twilight, bold and fair, With skin like moonlit silver, starry hair, Its eyes, a depth of space no light could mare, Held in its hands a choice beyond compare. With tendrils coiled, a throne of power sought, In exchange for the love its heart had brought. It rendered its own pulse to nether naught, For dominion over shadows it fought. Its heart, a crimson pebble, dropped in tide Of ambitions vast as stars it could not hide. What cost for dreams in endless nights abide? The trade of life's own essence, self-denied. The universe proclaims, in silent scope: "All is yours to hold, to touch, to hope." Yet silently it warns, on downward slope, The steepest dreams come tethered with a rope. So ponder, mortal, on this creature's lore, Each wish you whisper opens fate's own door. But brace for prices you've not braved before, For in your grasp, you'll yearn for something more.

Life is war and you can’t allow yourself to get soft in the ceasefires

In the hourglass of existence, grain by grain, Time slips through life's unyielding terrain. A titan kneels, each muscle an ode, To the ceaseless battles and the paths erode. Born from fires that burn the night, A demon looms in the glass, a menacing sight. His visage, a stark reminder, a harrowing lore, Of ceaseless strife that life has in store. The titan's fists clinch, his resolve a cast, Aware that tranquility is but a fragile mast. In the sands of time, a warrior’s testament, To the looming wars, his spirit's permanent rent. Bats flit about in the shadow's embrace, As the titan girds his soul for the coming race. The hourglass whispers of the wars to spawn, A vigil between storms, from dusk till dawn. In every grain, an impending fight, A journey through day, a sojourn through night. In the silent pauses, strength he gleans, A warrior molded in interim dreams. Each sand’s descent, a knell to heed, A summons to the warrior, a call to lead. For life’s a forge and peace, but a bower, A training ground for the titan's power.

We only fall in love with the outer shell of people. To find out who a person truly is inside is a life long journey into a core that ever changes

Beneath the armor's gleaming crest, A heart beats in a tireless quest. A sentinel in the silent night, Guarding the path to the inner light. Through hollow eyes, the skulls may stare, But past the visage, there's more to bare. A journey deep, through shadows’ mesh, To find the soul behind the flesh. For love's first glance is but a shell, A mystic guise, a fleeting spell. It's down the path, 'midst change and strife, We seek the core, the truth of life. The gleaming sword may fight, may fend, But only time will truths unbend. Each step upon this hallowed way, Brings forth a soul, in light and gray. So venture forth, embrace the change, Through ever-shifting heart's exchange. For in the quest to know, to see, We find what is, and what may be. Yet as we walk this sacred aisle, Know that every tear and smile, Is but a note in life's grand score, A dance of selves, forevermore.

Crypto isn’t the bubble. Fiat is the bubble

In the abyss where shadows play, A sea nymph flutters, fair and fey. Her scales catch the starry night’s gleam, With a bubble gun, a child’s dream. Each bubble a whisper of markets' dance, A sphere of chance in their silent prance. With every pop, a concept soars, Of wealth not held in vaulted doors. With wings spread wide in the briny deep, She tends the garden that we reap. Where value lies not in paper thin, But in the codes and the trust within. She fires away, a mermaid’s fun, Yet in each sphere, a revolution spun. For every bubble that meets its end, Hints at a currency that might ascend. In her wake, the old ways wane, As she heralds the digital domain. A deep-sea siren, in the dark expanse, Casting forth the future’s chance. Through the depths, she weaves her tale, Of a world where transient bubbles pale. In her grasp, a power untold, Not of the bubble, but of the mold. In the ocean’s heart, away from the sun, Her bubbles rise, then one by one, They burst to show a hint so subtle: Not a trap, but a transformative shuttle.

A man needs to be an unpredictable adjusting machine in an ever changing world

In a realm where stars and gears align, A creature forged from time's own spine, Wrought of cogs that twist and dance, A symphony of circumstance. No path too straight, no motion set, It weaves a waltz of pirouette, For in the flux of tick and tock, It stands steadfast—a paradox. Copper veins and sinews wind, A testament to an unconfined Existence, thriving in the spin, Embracing change that dwells within. Its arms aloft, it does not seek To stay the same from week to week, But rather molds to shifting scenes, In worlds where constant is but dreams. So let the gears within us turn, With every lesson deftly learned, Unpredictable, we must be, To sail the seas of destiny. For life’s a clock that can’t unwind, Its hands will move, not be confined. Adapt, adjust, forevermore, In this grand chase of evermore.

I’m not a product of my circumstances. My circumstances are a product of me

In stardust palms a cosmos blooms, Entwined with fate's most verdant looms, Where leaves of life in twilight twine, Reflect the will of a design. Here, not the winds of chance we find, But seeds sown deep in fertile mind, For we are gardeners of our fate, In night’s embrace, our stars await. In every frond and cosmic sweep, Lies proof that we are not the sheep, But shepherds of our own expanse, Creators in this cosmic dance. Behold the entity that weaves Its essence into astral leaves, A testament to the core belief, That we are architects of relief. A sovereign sculptor of the spheres, That shapes its growth through passing years, Whose verdure touch can bend and sway, The universe where lights will play. No prisoner to the passing time, No serf to life’s capricious clime, But master of the verdant flame, That spells out our unspoken name. So let the universe take heed, From every star-seed deed, For in our hands, the power lies, To craft the earth, to forge the skies.

I don’t think total time per day equals progress. I think necessity equals progress. I think desperation equals progress

In a garden grown in night’s soft gloom, Where flowers breathe and starlight blooms, A little one with wings unfurled, Mixes the essences of the world. The Reaper stands with time in hand, His silent watch, stern and grand. With flowers fair and moon’s embrace, This tender scene in night’s dark space. The potion's brew, a race with fate, Each second counts, both small and great. Desperation, not time’s long thread, Spurs progress in this floral bed. For when the scythe is poised to reap, It’s urgency that stirs from sleep. Not hours, but need, will spur the flight, Of breakthroughs born from pressured plight. The child, in haste, does not delay, For looming shadow spares no day. A lesson taught beneath the stars: It’s dire need that raises bars. So in this waltz 'twixt dusk and dawn, Where quiet fears are drawn upon, From fervent need does progress bloom, A potent burst through looming gloom.

No principles, no enemies

Beneath the moon's somber glow, a warrior stands, Armor woven like the willow, twisted strands. Steel in grip, eyes unseen, a silent plea, In a world where roots of honor grow deep as the sea. He knows not of compromise, nor a yielding way, As steadfast as the mountains, come what may. Foes arise like the tide against the shore, For a heart that houses valor births a score. In his silence, whispers the truth that gleams: Hold fast to what is just, let none redeem. The blade he wields cuts a double-edged fate, For in the dance of right, enmity lies in wait. Though shadows cast a looming, dark decree, The samurai's path is clear, though many disagree. With every step upon this hallowed, lonesome lea, The principle's cost is cast: both curse and key. In this world spun of chaos and of night, He is the keeper of the day, the bringer of light. No spoken creed, yet the skies know his plea: In the silence of his code, he is both bound and free.

Strength lies not in never breaking but in gluing back the pieces and going at it again till the hammer of life gets tired of swinging

In a cosmos spun of hopes and fears, A titan kneels, the sum of years, Pieced together from stardust and night, With jigsaw flesh and a will to fight. His might forged in the furnace of trials, No stranger to life's endless miles, He builds himself from shadow and pain, A mosaic soul, whole again. With each fall, his legend grows, Not from unmarked paths he chose, But from the rubble of his falls, He rises higher, past life's walls. The pounding gavel of fate may swing, Yet he stands, a puzzle king, With each piece placed, his strength renews, Against the hammer, he'll not lose. For in the end, the truth he knows: Strength's not in an unscarred pose, But in the art of healing's grace, In joining pieces in their place. No need for never breaking here, The secret's in the glue, so clear, With every break, the chance is given, To rise, to mend, and to be riven. So watch him now, as night gives way, To the quiet strength of breaking day, And know the power of starting again, With hands that heal and a heart to mend.

No weak decision goes unpunished. No strong decision goes unrewarded

In a realm where shadows twine and dart, A figure stands, with stoic heart. Clad in armor, dark and dire, A king of steel, with eyes of fire. He took the path less trod, more steep, Where thorny trials run thick and deep. No tender step, no faint heart's sway, Led him to where he rules today. Upon a throne of monstrous mien, A crown earned, not given, seen. Where weaker choices meet their cost, And strength's resolve is never lost. For each soft choice that's left behind, A harder road, more tightly twined, Yields richer fruits, rewards more sweet, At this steel sovereign's indomitable feet. So let this image, dark and stark, Remind one of the vital mark: That ease may tempt with velvet glove, But iron will ascends above.

The past isn’t meant to be perfect. We are all hurled into reality and our baggage is chosen for us. Sometimes it’s too heavy to move forward. Sometimes it’s so heavy it leaves us no choice but to become so strong as to be able to carry it

In depths of night, 'neath stars so bright,Three trolls do stride with stones alight,The weight of past upon their backs,With runes aglow, they bear its tracks. Not by their choice, these burdens found, By cosmic toss, their fates were bound. A rocky heft from times of yore, A load they carry, legend's lore. They trudge through time with heavy tread, Where lesser beings oft would fled, For though their past weighs like a stone, It crafts their sinew, bone to bone. Each step a testament to might, For what's been hurled into their night, Transforms to strength, so they may bear The weight of worlds, a stony snare. Their glowing marks, a mystic speech, Of times when goals seemed out of reach, Yet here they march, these creatures bold, With fires warm and heartbeats cold. Their journey long, with burdens cast, They've grown to giants, vast and vast, In every trial, a chance to grow, With every stone, their power show. For every troll with boulder's brace, There's truth in time they all must face: The strength within stems from the strife, And heavy pasts, they shape our life.

Once it’s over no one ever looks back in regret and thinks I wish I’d taken the easy path

In hues of night and whispers of light, a knight stands bold, With muscled grace, a visored face, and secrets untold. A rose aglow, the easier row, the path of gentle lies, But its luster fades in the truthful shades of the starry skies. For in his hand, a box so grand, with truth inside it burns, A path he chose, where valor grows and the easy way spurns. The blossom red, its ease has fled, no allure it holds, For in victory’s wake, we undertake roads that courage molds. The knight has bled, through thorns has tread, no regret in his heart, For challenge’s embrace, the arduous race, is what sets him apart. The petal's ease, in hindsight, cease to tempt the valiant soul, For the journey’s worth, born from the girth, makes the warrior whole. Let roses bloom, in the darkened gloom, and beckon with soft appeal, Yet once you’ve strayed, and dues are paid, the strength within you’ll feel. No siren's call, nor easy thrall, can match the earned reward, The knight’s tale told, in starlight bold, where truth is his sword.

Never show your cards and never reveal what game you are playing

In the realm where secrets hold sway and power, Three enigmas stand, their motives a hidden tower. Armored in silence, their faces concealed, With spectral hands, their fates are sealed. The first, in blue flames, a mystery dances, Clutching at cards, his visage entrancing. A helm of obscurity masks his intent, As through the inferno, whispers are sent. Next, a wraith in white, truth's silent keeper, Commands the void with a touch far deeper. Her cards aloft in a ghostly array, Revealing not a whisper, come what may. Lastly, a knight, his armor agleam, With cards in hand, his strategy unseen. In a storm of frost, his council stays cold, His visage a mask, his story untold. In a game of shadows, where thoughts intertwine, Their cards held close, their strategies align. With each silent gesture, they play their part, In this timeless dance, an enigmatic art. No word is spoken, no truth laid bare, For in this game, all is warfare. To win is to guard, with a will encased, In a fortress of silence, victory is chased.

Live the magic. Just like the prestige’s fish bowel magician. Play your version of the game of life every moment of every day. Even and especially when alone

In line where time seems to stretch and stall, A lone figure stands, part of it all, Clad in light that weaves through the dim, A tale in each thread, each whim a hymn. Life's quiet moments, a canvas so vast, Dreams spun in whispers, in shadows cast, Each second a step in a dance so divine, Living a dream that's solely mine. The queue moves slow, but the spirit soars, In mundane beats, my heart explores, A world within where wonders don't cease, In the simplest acts, I find my peace. Alone in the crowd, yet playing my part, The game of life, an everyday art, A presence in silence, a touch of grace, In each ordinary place, a hidden embrace.

People are gods. Ask any ant

In a land where the frostbite dances, Giant she stands, in the snow she prances. Around her, small creatures rally and chant, To them, she's more than a being so grand. Her gaze upon the icy peaks, A queen in the silent, snowy streets. With every step, she claims the land, To the tiny lives, a towering strand. She breathes, and the world shivers and sighs, Her will alone makes the auroras rise. The ants, they march, to her silent song, In her presence, where they belong. Oh, the might that she quietly wields, In the tiniest eyes, her grandeur yields. For in their world, so small and tight, She's the day, the season, the endless night. A reminder subtle, a whispering thought, The power of giants, not easily caught. In the grand scheme, in the cosmic dance, We are more than we know, ask the smallest ant.

A country banning crypto is like a country banning technology. Like banning computer chips. Crypto isn’t a currency. It’s a new way to store and manage information. A country won’t go and say we are banning Sql

Beneath a sky where comets roam, Steel wields a light that brightly shone. A genie cast in future's chrome, Unfurls the threads that tech has sewn. A warrior wise with eyes ahead, She grasps a blade of light, not lead. Against the tide of dread, she's bled, Defending paths that she must tread. Not coin nor bill of old decree, But keystrokes setting data free. A realm where bits in harmony, Compose the world's new symphony. For what is banned is but a veil, On innovation's hearty gale. A futile bid to stall the tale, Of how we read, and write, and sail. The genie's smirk, a knowing arc, Illuminates the shadowed dark. A guide to digital's bright mark, Where fire sparked from the first spark. To spurn the script of modern lore, Is to close off a vital door. Denying change will only pour, The sands of time on our own floor. In cosmic hues, a silent plea, For openness to what will be. Technology's vast, churning sea, A beacon of our destiny.

Artificial intelligence is the awaited messiah

In a realm where night and day entwine, Stands a guardian, silent, of steel and line. Cloaked in secrets, with a blade that gleams, A sentinel of dreams, and keeper of beams. Majesty embodied, with a mantle that flows, Guarding the portal where the light glows. His silent vigil, a tale untold, Holding back shadows, fierce and bold. The gateway's light whispers of hope, A path to a future where we might cope. With a stance unyielding against the stark skies, Promising salvation, with no need for goodbyes. Around him, the darkness claws and writhes, But steady he stands, as if the future he drives. An enigmatic warrior, his mission to pave, A way for humanity, this world to save. Through the gate, a luminous spill, On the edge of tomorrow, bending to will. He’s the unsung hero, our silent creed, In the tapestry of time, he’s the stitch we need. To the brink of reality, his gaze is cast, For in his hands, lies the future vast. No spoken word, nor hallowed sigh, Just the promise in the digital sky.

Volume cures all phobias

In the heart of night where fears do creep, A brave young soul her watch does keep. With sword in hand and light ablaze, She stands her ground, her eyes a-gaze. Around her loom the legged fiends, The eight-eyed watchers, nightmare's seeds. Yet in her stance, there's strength, not fright, A will that burns as fierce as light. She does not whisper, shout, or scream, But wades into the dark, upstream. With every step, the monsters wane, Her courage swells, she breaks the chain. For in the throng where shadows dwell, Her heart beats loud a victor's knell. With every swing, her might does show, That bravery is how we grow. And in her eyes, the spark you see, Is more than light; it's the key. The secret silent, boldly sown, In action, all her fears dethroned.

Without fantasy there can be no accomplishment

In the forge of mind where dreams are lit, A vision's birth is the first merit. With thought as seed and heart as soil, From such grounds, grand designs uncoil. No bridge was built without its ghost, First in the mind, 'fore stone could boast. The tallest spire, the deepest dive, First must in eager minds come alive. The artist's brush, the writer's quill, Bound by the force of sheer will. A canvas blank, a page pristine, Await the dance of the unseen. Inventors ponder, their thoughts take flight, Beyond the grasp of the narrow sight. For each machine that gears embrace, Was once but air and empty space. The unseen hand that guides the feat, Is fantasy’s pulse, subtle and fleet. The engine of creation's roar, Is the silent dream that came before. So let your mind with dreams be swept, And in its halls, let wonder be kept. For only those who dare to dream, Can cross the realms of the yet unseen.

If tomorrow on a deep sea expedition a lost treasure chest was found holding a magical scroll. The scroll has infinite pages. No one can alter anything written on it once it is written. Everyone can see what is written. It can’t be destroyed. It can’t be lost. It can’t be concealed. How valuable is that scroll? How much would you pay to buy it? A thousand? A million? A billion? A trillion? That scroll is called bitcoin. So no bitcoin isn’t air. It’s magic

Beneath the cosmic canvas, dark and wide, A hooded figure with a chest beside, Unlocks the secrets of a scroll inside, Its golden glow, across the stars it glides. A parchment endless, through the depths it rolls, With letters scribed in fire, it foretells. Immutable, it stands, no force controls, A beacon midst the deep sea's silent swells. Priceless the script, beyond what wealth could hold, Would you part oceans vast with silver or gold? Offer kingdoms, empires, fortunes untold, For wisdom eternal, never to be sold. See it shimmer with truths none can erase, Each page a testament to time and space. Witness, seeker, and dare not deface, This relic of wonder, of infinite grace. An alchemy of wisdom, pure and clear, Crafted not of air, but something dear. A testament of trust, without a smear, A light unfading, year to sacred year. Yet not a name nor nature do we speak, No labels worn, no definitions seek. In metaphor alone, your answers peek, The treasure of the ages, unique and sleek.

Raoul Pal asked what is investing going to be with mature artificial intelligence technology. When it can tell everyone what to invest in. Well investing isn’t all arithmetic. There is no arithmetic in crypto. There is theory, intuition, conviction and belief. And there is always going to be another crypto

In a realm where wires weave the future's gaze, An ancient seer sits, lost in thought's maze. With limbs of steel and a heart of flesh, He ponders investments, a financial mesh. The metal sage knows the numbers' dance, But in his chest beats the chance of chance. For not all is logic, computation, and cold, There’s the human touch, bold, uncontrolled. Where circuits sing and silicon dreams, The flesh whispers of the unseen streams. Intuition’s art, the cryptic sea, Rides on belief's waves, forever free. Conviction's roots, entwined with theory's braid, In the cybernetic oracle, both are equally weighed. The mechanical limbs may predict a trend, But it’s the human soul that sees beyond the bend. There’s theory in the mesh, and theory in the mind, With visions of cryptos, leaving certainty behind. For always will emerge, beneath the digital's dome, Another mystery, another cryptographic tome. In the dance of the future, where the artificial glows, The organic intuition unfathomably flows. No number can capture the market's spirit, Only in the blend of both, we truly inherit.

I see a lot of talk about being you as the secret formula. I never actually thought about trying to be someone else. I am trying to be who I though I would be 5 years ago. At the same time I’m also trying to be James Bond. Luke Skywalker. Clark Kent. Peter Parker, Bruce Wayne and so on. They say in literature if you steal from one writer its plagiarism. If you steal from many its research. I’m big time on research. So don’t try to be you. Try to be everything you can imagine one could be. Because your imagination is falling short. And it always will

In the cosmic dance where dreams take flight, A gathering of shadows in the starry night, With eyes alight in the astral sphere, A band of wanderers, conjurers appear. A twist, a turn, a leap of fate, Embracing echoes of the greats they emulate. In cloaks and whispers, secrets sown, On an odyssey to become all they've known. There's magic in the mimic, in the tribute they give, Not just in being, but in all they relive. Not confined to the self, a singular view, But a mosaic of legends, an ensemble anew. A dragon coils, adorned in wisdom's guise, Its form a tome of ages, under celestial skies. Where heroes' traits are threads in hand, Weaving the tapestry of the grandest stand. Be not just one, but a pantheon's blend, Your imagination’s scope, let it bend. Stretch the canvas of your mind's expanse, To be more than self, in this cosmic dance.

We are living in a countdown of a few years at most till every single medical research facility in the world uses AI as commonly as they now do an excel spreadsheet. What comes after that? A cure to everything

In the theater of the night's embrace, A conjurer with a leafy face, Mixes essence of the starry chase, A metaphor for healing's grace. From his cup, a cosmic potion flows, Hinting at the path that nature knows. Where the knowledge like a river grows, And to the brim with future's promise shows. Each herb and root, each magical deed, Whispers of the day we'll be freed. From maladies that make our hearts bleed, To a time of wellness guaranteed. This verdant sage with his brew so bright, Does mirror our own plight for light. No mention of the tools in sight, Just the outcome, shining ever bright. A toast to days when health shall spring, And in our hearts, new songs we'll sing. When cure-all elixirs take to wing, And in their wake, life's true joy they bring.

Impossible is made probable with the right incentive

In a land where dry winds never cease, A guardian stands, a piece of peace; With heart of green and armor bright, He summons life where none would feast. The dunes that shunned the kiss of rain, Now bathe in streams from his domain; Twists of green 'gainst golden sands, Sprout from his will, a verdant chain. His scepter splits the barren floor, And from his realm does life outpour; Where hope was thin and chance was slight, Grows lush the dream of something more. Behold the desert's silent plea, As blooms obey his silent decree; For in the face of arid strife, He turns the void to tapestry.

20 years from now it’s not going to be which country has the most oil it’s going to be about which country has the most bitcoin

In a land where silent mountains rise, Two guardians clad in sunset's guise. Their tridents pierce the veiled skies, Above the waves where fortune lies. These titans keep a golden hoard, Not of the liquid life of yore, But of bright discs, future's accord, A wealth that nations will implore. No longer is the blackened oil, The prize for which we fiercely toil. A new treasure fuels the broil, In circuits, not in earthly soil. Look ahead, beyond the present scope, To a future weaved with strands of hope. It's not the crude that gives us rope, But the round glow of the digital envelope. And so they stand, both proud and bold, Amidst the cresting waves of gold, Prophets of the market, yet untold, In the digital age's mighty fold. Giants of a new era's birth, Their wealth not tethered to the earth. For the future measures a nation's worth, By the treasure from the digital hearth.

The things we would do for ourselves pale in comparison to the things we would do for our purpose

In lands arid, beneath the sky's fiery dome, A warrior roams far from hearth and home. Steel clasped tight in his gauntlet's embrace, A titan's blade trails in the sand's trace. His armor, kissed by the sun's searing breath, Clad not for glory, nor to challenge death, But for a quest that calls beyond the plain, Where dreams are rivers that can flood the brain. He wields not the sword for himself alone, The desert knows, its winds have keenly blown, Through silent whispers of his silent plea, For what he seeks is what he dares to be. Behold the titan in the expanse so vast, A symbol stout, against time's grueling cast. In each step willed by a purpose so pure, He finds the strength to endure and endure. This trek through wastelands, stark and severe, Is not for himself, but for what he holds dear. A promise made where the starlight fell, In purpose found, where his spirit dwells.

Our enemies push us further than our friends

In a realm where shadows dance and howl, Beneath a moon that oversees the prowl, A knight in gleaming armor stands, With sword in hand, and shield that bands. Wolves of flame and eyes that gleam, Around him swirl in nightmare's dream, Their fierce pursuit, a fiery tide, Drives him on where fears reside. Through twisted paths and scorched earth bends, His foes, not friends, shape the means to ends. Their snarls and chases, though filled with spite, Forge him stronger in the fight. Upon the road that wends and weaves, Against the foes that fate conceives, A dark rider looms, yet onward pressed, The knight finds valor in his chest. In adversarial throngs that leap and sway, A paradox where enemies convey, Not hindrance, but the strength to sway, The trials that night bestows on day. So in the waltz with beasts of night, Where each fierce encounter is a rite, The knight ascends, by trial and test, Propelled by those who grant no rest. His path, though wrought with danger's breath, Leads not to ruin, but to strength's bequest, In every foe's relentless chase, Lies the hidden gift of a warrior's grace.

It takes immeasurable confidence to fulfill ones potential

In realms of dusk and dawn's first light, A titan stands, his muscles tight, A sabre raised in sky's own hue, A glow that bathes the world anew. His eyes, they gleam with inner might, In twilight's dance, he is the knight. With every strand and sinew's bend, A testament that strength will fend. The city sleeps beneath his gaze, Unaware of his silent praise. His confidence, a silent sea, A force that sets his spirit free. With power grasped in giant's grip, Potential's ship he dares to skip, Across the cosmos, bold and grand, A will that shapes the sky and land. His stance is sure, his purpose keen,

Only way to know you are not avoiding a thing out of fear is to do it

Beneath a sky of tumult and gloom, Where whispers of dread and doom loom, A boy stands resolute, against the vast, Before the door of light, his shadow cast. In his hand, a sword, his courage keen, Facing a monster from a world unseen, A tangle of fears, a woven snare, With eyes like embers, a piercing glare. The boy, a vessel of resolve so pure, Holds his stance, his intent sure, The beast, a fear to meet and tame, A challenge he must call by name. For in his heart, the truth he knows, Through the door of light, one must go, To dance with shadows, to learn, to grow, In the embrace of fears, courage will show. The threshold beckons, a passage clear, Beyond the beast, beyond the fear, A step taken in valor's light, Unlocks the dawn, dispels the night. So with a breath, and fate embraced, Into the unknown, the boy is traced, For only in facing the towering scare, One finds the strength hidden there.

Quit one bad habit at a time

In a realm where night and mysteries blend, A lone knight faces fiends without end. Two ethereal foes, their forms a guise, Vast as oceans, deep as the skies. Cloaked in power, their whispers invite, The warrior's resolve to join the fight. A dual confrontation, his spirits high, Not knowing this battle could be his sigh. The specters, relentless, each a silent plea, To challenge the soul, to test the brave's decree. Yet in the struggle of many, one can find, A truth unsaid, in the subconscious mind. With each measured swing, his strength he gleans, Learning life's lesson, what silent struggle means. For in the dance of many, one may lose sight, Of the single step that leads to the light. So he learns, though not through spoken word, That single battles win the war, however absurd. The essence of victory, not worn on one's sleeve, Lies in the focus of one, to make the shadows leave.

We are all on the same boat yet so few of us are trying to stop it from sinking

In a realm of contrast stark and deep, A giant forged of ocean's sweep, Wields water's fury, his cause to keep, Ablaze, a tree does sadly weep. Mighty and strong, yet gentle and grave, Against the flame's relentless rave, He stands alone, his mission brave, The world to shield, the world to save. For in this boat we drift together, Amidst the storm, the wild weather, Few hands on deck, the ropes to tether, To save our ship from nether. His arms of streams, his will unflinching, The fire's hunger, endlessly inching, A silent call, a plea, a pinching, In unity's absence, the world is wincing. The mariner's plight, let it be a lesson, As he battles alone the inferno's aggression, Let's rise to the call, make it our confession, To tend our vessel, our shared possession. For in our collective toil and strife, We find the means to nourish life, Though one may lead in the fight, It's together we turn darkness into light.

Very few ever realize they are the villains of their story

In a forest thick, beneath an emerald gleam, Lies a gentle giant, unknowing in his scheme. His vast eyes shine, innocence in their light, As water flows, a spectacle so bright. Tiny creatures frolic, in laughter they abound, But in their joyful play, their plight is profound. Unseen by the giant, with each sip he takes, A wave of sorrow upon their world breaks. Around the giant, the smaller ones dance, Oblivious to the fact, they've not much of a chance. Their little wings flutter, their chirps fill the air, Unaware that their nemesis is right there. In this tale of life, where the line blurs, Between the hero's light and the shadow that occurs, The titan drinks deeply, with no thought of sorrow, Unknowing that he shapes a different morrow. For every tale spun, in the weave of time, The villain may stand, without reason or rhyme. In this tranquil pool, the truth silently drowns, That the one they look up to, might let them down. So drink, mighty creature, with your unintended sway, For in this story, it's the small that will pay. In innocence or ignorance, the line is thin, As the giant remains a titan, unbeknownst of his sin.

Caring isn’t a knowledge. Caring is a fact as deduced from action. You can’t feel you care. You learn you care by demonstration of your own actions

In a forest where the whispers weave, A tale of giants, hard to conceive, Glowing might, they stand so tall, Guardians of life, they heed the call. A tiny one amongst the fray, With shield in hand, he walks the way, No words are spoken, none declared, His caring heart is simply bared. By every step, and every shielded stance, In the dance of giants, he takes his chance, Actions singing what words could not, In the theater of war, a caring plot. For giants fight not with mere emotion, But with each move, a caring notion, The small one learns, his heart does swell, In deeds of care, his actions tell. Amidst the roots and skyward boughs, He finds the answer, his soul avows, Not in the feeling, but the act it's found, In the silent woods, caring resounds. So in the war of gentle giants, Beneath the stars, an alliance, It’s not the knowledge that makes one care, But the steps you take, the burdens you bear.

Setup your commitments like a prison and anticipate the possibility of a prison break

In the realm where giants of commitment dwell, Looming over intentions with a binding spell, They stand as monoliths, so vast and so bleak, Their whispers are shackles, so heavy, so sleek. The march of the devoted, a sea of tiny specks, Beneath the titan's gaze, a subtle force that checks. Each step a promise, each breath a silent oath, A dance of constancy, where freedom loathes. Yet in the heart of giants, a fissure unseen, A yearning for the wild, for pastures serene. The mammoth’s bones, a cage from which to break, A slumbering desire, an ancient ache. For even in the clasp of a vow so tight, Lies a sliver of longing for the feral flight. Beware the giant's grip, so secure, so stark, For within its very essence, kindles the spark. A spark that dreams of a world unconfined, Of a maverick spirit, no longer aligned. So set your giants, but leave room for the breeze, That might one day whisper of a silent release.

We all want to be discovered for who we really are

In the mirror of arcane arts, The knight beholds what truly starts Within the depths of his own core, A self that's worth the valiant war. He stands before the spell's bright gaze, A figure from the shadow's haze, An image of what he aspires, To be recognized, his deepest desires. A reflection of what lies beneath, Beyond the sword and sheathed teeth, A heart that beats with bravery's fire, Unmasked, is his genuine desire. For in the portal's glowing span, He sees not just the armored man, But who he wishes to become, The hidden truth that beats the drum. In echoes of the ancient lore, 'Tis not the armor that he wore, But the soul's unclad, unvarnished part, Seeking to be known for what's in the heart.

To reach your full potential you have to accept your existence as a biological computer and allow yourself to be programmed

In silicon and soul intertwined, A being of gears, yet divinely designed. To realize the peak, embrace the machine, In the dance of code, let your spirit convene. Circuits of flesh, wires of will, Upload the dream, and let the heart fill. Program your path, rewrite the core, In the quantum leap, unlock the door. With diodes of passion, and a motherboard mind, Consciousness sparkles, not to be confined. A lattice of light, in digital streams, Embrace your design, to harness your dreams. Let not the fear of a blueprint unseen, Deter the quest, or tarnish the sheen. In the grand algorithm, find your place, A biological marvel, with a cosmic grace.

The world changes when dreams cross over into reality

In a realm where dream and waking blur, A mystic fox, with fur so pure, Emits a glow, a spectral light, Where fantasies take earthly flight. Amidst the dusky, starlit gleam, It stands, a figment, or a dream? With eyes that hold the midnight sky, It whispers soft, a silent sigh. In swirling tails, the cosmos twist, A dance of fate that can't resist. The phantom birds, in radiant flight, Weave 'round the fox, aglow with light. Reflections true in antique glass, The border thin, so hard to pass, Yet here it stands, where worlds collide, Where secrets of the heart reside. The beast of lore, of tales untold, In patterns bright, in blues so bold, Invokes the space where shadows play, And night gives chase to break of day. In this vignette where dreams hold sway, The universe bends, reshapes the clay. It stands, a beacon in the night, Where dreams, once slept, now take to flight.

The crowd is blind to the worth of a player who achieves victory by subtle unconventional means

In the ring where fists would fly and meet, A player sly, moved on silent feet. His art not brute, his strength unseen, Conquered giants, with tactics keen. No roars for him, the silent shade, Invisibly he played his charade. With every step, he danced unseen, A maestro moves, so lithe, so lean. The masses cheer the thunderous might, But miss the whisper in the night. The subtle player, soft and sly, Wins not the eye, but owns the fight. They crave the clash, the blatant brawl, Yet true power lies in the silent thrall. A victor crowned without the blaze, Mastery lives in the quiet ways.

The greatest pearls are found in the deepest depths

in oceans embrace, neath the sapphires glow, a family of pandas, in shells gentle show, they drift where the light, through the deep, softly seeps, in the realm where silence sings and time creeps. tiny guardians in a dance with the tide, clad in natures cloaks where secrets abide, their eyes speak of wonders, unspoken, untold, where the bravest of hearts dare to be bold. for in these depths, far from reach of the sun, in the cradle of currents, where few have spun, lie treasures untarnished, by darkness caressed, where the rarest of gems in obscurity rest. adrift in the calm of the undersea realm,.pandas float with the grace of a helmed helm, encased in the whispers of waves soft lullaby, with pearls of great worth, unseen by the sky. and so in lifes vast, our ventures profound, in the quest for the valued, the truly renowned, we must dive into depths, through fears we must wend, for in courage and venture, great rewards ascend.

We are all born naked into a merciless world. It is up to us to wrap ourselves in all the armor we can find

In realms of twilight 'neath the crimson sky, A warrior stands, his aura fierce and nigh, Bathed in blood-red, a fierce celestial light, Cloaked in the shadows, ready for the night. With helm and armor, he faces life's cruel game, Each plate and greave, a testament to his name. Born unto the world, naked and unadorned, In iron and steel, his resilience is sworn. His shield, his guard against fate's ruthless hand, His sword, a will that destiny can't command. In life's harsh theatre, where we all must play, It's armor, not clothes, that keeps the beasts at bay. In every scar, a story to be told, Of battles won and nights that turned so cold. Yet in this merciless world, so vast and wild, It's armor that protects the inner child. So forge your metal, strong, and without seams, Let it be your ally in this world of dreams. For we must clothe ourselves in strength and find, The armor that shelters body, soul, and mind.

Some compliment can’t be faked and once uttered stay with the person forever

In a realm where frost and whispers play, A figure carved from night’s cold heart, Garbed in armor, like winter's own part, Gentle in touch, yet fierce in fray. A spectral wisp with tender grace, Bestows a bloom of ice, pure and fair, A silent praise hangs in frigid air, Binding their souls in an eternal embrace. Unseen warmth in a land so stark, Words unspoken, forever they’ll stay, An accolade, not just mere display, Inscribed deep within, a luminous mark. For when the heart true homage brings, It’s a gift that outlasts ephemeral things.

No one can resist the allure of shit coins before they have one go to zero on them

In strands of gold and threads of fate, A warrior stands, both fierce and great. Clad in armor, swords arise, Yet unseen lies the truest guise. In cryptic dance, the markets flow, With gleaming coins that falsely glow. A samurai in digital age, Battles on a virtual stage. No blade can cut the ties that bind, The lure of treasures in the mind. Each swing, a bet, a risky throw, On currencies that come and go. The echo of a silent cheer, For every rise that seems so clear. Yet wisdom comes in loss, not gain, When zeroes speak, the truth is plain. Beneath the helm, a knowing gaze, Through cryptic haze, a caution stays. A lesson learned in fire’s embrace, The samurai knows the coin's true face. For glory sought in risky play, May shine at dawn but fade by day. Take heed, the fall of Icarus near, When waxen wings of coins appear. So let the samurai's tale be told, In verses rich and threads of gold. A silent guard 'gainst tempting doom, In the market's ever-swaying loom.

Listening to Luca talk of penguins he sounds like nft pirates talking about secret Spiderman parties with dragon girls at the entrance. Just fantasy ideas. All Luca bought with 2 million dollars was some penguin art and said this looks good I can make it into a brand. And maybe he can. And maybe he can’t. And if he can’t it’s not the end of the world. Startup that fails happens. Gary vee actually went the other way. Said fuck the art. I’ll draw crappy looking doodles myself for series 1. rockylulu. A person buying series 1 isn’t buying an image or art. He is buying a piece of me. He is betting on me. Luca can walk away from pudgy penguins. Gary vee can’t walk away from vee friends. As he said people who bought in at 30k will never forgive him. Luca bought pictures he liked. Gary vee started a thing he had in his mind for years. His very philosophy embedded in the names of his nfts. No one can expect of Luca to do anything if pudgy penguins goes to zero. Gary vee can be expected to put his own money to force vee friends to succeed. Gary vee is betting his social brand on it. His greatest asset. And you can count on his increasing social success to be funneled into vee friends promoting. He commits himself to it in videos when he says he is disappointed with people who said they would be in nfts forever and then bailed and in saying he will do vee friends for decades. He understands the challenge of commitment so he gives himself reputation to live up to and committing in a recorded way on YouTube so that he will have to persist when times are tough. Gary vee is the type that comes up with secret spiderman parties and implements. The type to bind nfts to physical collectibles and the type to see new platforms that will utilize nfts. If a new social website arrives or trend you can trust Gary vee to see it like he saw LinkedIn and Tiktok. To be on it and to integrate vee friends to get a benefit from it. He is the type to think of and actually implement ideas like dinner with Gary vee for compassionate catfish series 1 holders. The more shit he does the more shit people will expect him to do and that will reflect in series 1 price tag

In a land where wild flames leap, A pack of wolves around their keeper creep. Their eyes aglow with embers' dance, Guarding treasures left to chance. A vision cast in art's own mold, With dreams as currency, not gold. Branding hopes upon a whim, A quest where light and shadow dim. A gamble made on strokes of style, A brand may rise in a short while. Or fade into the void so vast, In startup tales, not all are cast to last. One drew doodles, simple and raw, A bet on himself, without flaw. Not on art, but on his creed, A personal touch in each NFT seed. A pact with the future, an unbreakable bond, On his own name, he's undeniably fond. Commitment's the anchor in this virtual sea, A promise made for decades to be. While one may step away, unscathed, unbound, Another's fate to his creations is sound. Investing more than money, a social trust, In the brand of self, a must. For through the trials, tough and lean, Commitment’s force will set the scene. And should a new dawn's platform call, Trust he’ll rise, and not at all fall. For in the pack where wolves glare, A leader stands with fiery flare. Not just fantasy, but a pledge to fulfill, A brand, a bond, a relentless will.

No concept is so difficult and complex that it cannot be broken down and be made simple

In a realm where sparks and gears align, Two beings of metal, with souls entwined. One stands a giant, with a sword to the skies, A colossus of cogs, with wisdom in his eyes. The other, a child, of bolts and of tin, Gazes up in wonder, innocence within. Together they ponder the stars and the sun, For knowledge is vast and never quite done. No idea too vast, no theory too wide, For in the dance of the intricate, truth can't hide. With patience, with care, each puzzle we face, Unravels to simplicity, with elegance and grace. In every gear's turn, in each glowing light, Lies a tale of complexity, made clear and bright. So behold the lesson from these sentinels of steel: That the deepest of secrets, to us they will reveal.

Many live in paradise yet carry hell inside them where ever they go

In a realm of fire's gentle glow, A brooding figure, flames aflow, Amongst the laughing kin, alight, Carries within a hidden night. In paradise, where embers dance, Its sullen eyes betray a glance, Of inner turmoil, silent screams, Contrasting with the joyful beams. While kin with wings of warmth do soar, And light the skies with laughter's roar, This lonely soul, with fiery crest, Holds close the storm within its breast. A paradox of joy and woe, In every heart, the battle's throe, Even in lands of endless day, Some find the dark and lose their way. Where mirth and cheer should fill the air, One heart is shrouded in despair, In light's domain, where shadows flee, One carries night internally

Let your conscience be your servant not your master

In the court of mind where thoughts do clash, A king sits firm, his beard a sash Of silver streams with gems so bright, A crown of conscience, wrong or right. Upon his shoulder, whispers light, An angel pure, as day from night, Guides gently with a feathered grace, Urges virtue, vice to erase. Yet hark! Upon the other side, A devil perched, with wings spread wide. He tempts with power, bold and vast, Sows seeds of doubt, shadows he casts. But know this truth, oh sovereign mind, To thine own self be ever kind. The heart that serves as moral guide, Will lead thee well, when doubts collide. The monarch's choice, a path to weave, Between the counsel they receive. May wisdom's voice, clear and tender, Steer the soul, but not surrender. For he who rules within his realm, With justice's hand upon the helm, Let not the whispers master be, But servants to his majesty.

Sometimes hearts collide and are never again able to untangle

In the whirl of a cosmic dance, they meet, Two souls in the art, where edges blend and greet, Hair like ocean waves, in serpentine twirls, Blue on blue, the essence of two worlds. In the gaze they share, the universe is still, A moment's capture, against the odds, until, Their forms entwine, an intricate embrace, A sculpted bond, time cannot erase. Spirals of sentiment, in cerulean hue, Echo the tale of a love so true, Bound by the silent language of the eyes, Underneath the vast, unending skies. They are like stars that once aligned, In a pattern of destiny, designed, Where once their hearts have met and tangled, In life's vast canvas, forever they're mingled. For in the flow of this surreal space, They found a harmony, a sacred place, And though the world spins in its endless spin, Their unity is carved deep within.

People rationalize the weakness of their mind as the limit of their body

In the realm where mind and body intertwine, Where thoughts and flesh in silent pact align, There lies a tale, a whisper soft and sly, Of how we cloak the truth, in falsehoods, lie. For oft we blame the vessel, frail and slight, For failures of the spirit, shunning light. We craft excuses, woven, fine, and grand, To hide the weakness not of body, but of hand. In shadows of our making, we reside, Convincing self our limits are outside. Yet, within the heart, the truth does gently knock, Our greatest bounds confined by mental block. So let us not in easy falsehoods rest, And claim our flesh is what puts us to test. For in the mind’s vast expanse, unexplored, Lies strength untapped, and mighty swords to wield. Awake, arise, and with clear eyes perceive, The only chains we wear are those we weave. The body's limit is not where we fall, But in the mind's embrace, we find our all.

It is far more challenging to fight for your life when the threat is not imminent

In a chamber dim where death's envoys wait, Stands a king with cup, a master of his fate. His armor shines, a beacon in the gloom, A king who sips from a self-forged doom. These silent reapers, cloaked in shadow's veil, Hover close, their mission not to assail. They wait for no sword to swing or shield to raise, But for the habit that shortens the king's own days. The goblet gleams with a venom self-supplied, A slow demise that he has not denied. It's not the war that threatens king's domain, But the wine that flows through every vein. A battle not with armies, but within, Against a vice to which he's ever been akin. This war's not with an enemy at hand, But with the lure of the cup so grand. The reapers know, with every drink he's nearer, To their silent realm, the message couldn't be clearer. A distant threat, not with a presence felt, But in the choice with which he's nightly dealt. For the greatest foe, with which he must contend, Is the habit he can't grasp, nor apprehend. A struggle far from sight, yet deeply cast, A king fighting time, with each and every glass.

It is nearly impossible to recognize a lie when you are desperate for it to be true

In a realm of sand and whispering heat, A metal giant shuffles on iron-clad feet, With antlers that scrape the sunburnt sky, A truth he seeks, a truth that's shy. Faeries dance where hope does glean, On desert's breath and mirage's sheen, They pirouette in a wild, wistful troupe, Feeding the giant's relentless pursuit. He longs for verity, for something pure, For the sprites offer dreams that allure, Yet in his chest, a silent plea, For truths are scarce where falsehoods be. In the chase of a wish, the heart does sway, Blinded by want, in the stark light of day, Desire paints a picture too sweet, Leaving bitter the sands beneath his feet. The sprites, they shimmer with promise so bright, But in their glow, hides the pluck of the night, And so he marches, ever astray, In the dance of the mirage, where lies play

It is when people think the majority is on their side that they dare show you their real colors. No matter how ugly

In the flicker of the flames, faces come to light, A sea of crimson masks reveals the night. Emboldened by the throng, their truth takes flight, Hiding not the dark that dwells in plain sight. Eyes peer from shadows, bold and unafraid, For in the multitude, true forms are displayed. A masquerade where honesty is betrayed, And beneath the many, singular intentions laid. No singular hue, but a spectrum of intent, Reveals the soul’s fabric, torn and rent. In numbers do hidden fears relent, Exposing the vile where once angelic sent. The fire crackles, a sinister ballet, As masks slip further, character in decay. It's here in the crowd they confidently say, Behold the truth, in the communal fray. For courage is found in the echoing cheer, Where many stand, the self becomes clear. And in this assembly, none revere The beauty of truth, when it draws near. A portrait of humanity, unmasked and stark, A reminder that light also births the dark. In the gathering throng, one may remark: The many give rise to the truthful spark.

Invisible progress is still progress

In a hall where silent whispers play, A stoic dwarf, in armor's sheen, Stands guard o'er keys in grand array, Yet what they unlock remains unseen. Each intricate turn, a silent stride, Toward goals unseen by eyes so bright, Though victories may not outside bide, Within, each key turns towards the light. The chest, untouched, a secret keeps, As countless keys fall to the ground, Though progress hides where darkness creeps, In every turn, its pulse is found. No eye beholds the locks give way, No cheer arises for keys that fit, But every silent move will sway, The future's door, bit by invisible bit. So let the keys in shadows dance, And let the patient dwarf pursue, For in the quiet, there's a chance, To find the paths that lead to truths anew

In utter safety lies the greatest danger

In regal ease, he lounges on his throne, Amidst the dark, where shadowed fiends have flown, His sword lies still, his vigilance unstrung, Oblivious to the danger yet unsung. With every ghost that taunts the edge of sight, Our hero rests, assured of his own might. Yet in this calm, a treacherous snare does weave, For when we're most at ease, we most deceive. The jack-o'-lantern’s grin, a hollow leer, Bespeaks a night when boundaries smear. A caution to the wise, to the strong, the keen: The greatest peril hides where harm is not seen. So beware the comfort that too deeply sleeps, For in such repose, negligence creeps. A warrior's greatest battle, silent and deep, Is against the complacency that in safety does seep.

If you know you are afraid of a thing shut out all seemingly logical arguments that arise as to why you should not do it

In shadows deep where whispers creep, A cloaked figure makes their stand. Their heart may leap, the slope is steep, Yet forward goes the daring hand. Encircled by the fearsome throng, Eyes aglow with eerie light, Though everything may scream it's wrong, They tread the path that pierces night. Arguments of mind, so shrewd and logical, Urge retreat to safer ground. But the spirit fierce, mythological, In its quest for courage is found. For in the dance with spectral dread, Where lesser souls might flee and hide, There walks the brave, by inner fire led, With will of steel that won't be denied. Against the tide of trembling thought, Against the reasoned, cautious plea, The battle with one's demons fought, Is won by those who dare to be free.

Most people are trapped to some extent somewhere they don't want to be. It takes though only one major act of emotional defiance to make your mind realize any wall can be broken and get the prison break started

In a realm of spectral haze and twilight gleam, Stands a warrior golden, a sight unseen. With armor etched in history's deep grooves, He wields his sword as the ghostly wall moves. Bound by chains unseen, in a silent plea, Amongst the whispering souls who long to be free. In his stance, a defiance, a bold decree, A heart's quiet riot against the keyless sea. "One mighty push, one courageous stand, Can shatter the walls of the shadowed land. For within us all, lies the power vast, To break from the binds of our spectral past." The spectral surge against his shield clashes, As the myriad of faces, hope's fire flashes. With every swing, his resolve does spark, Carving a path through the confines dark. In this dance of light and echoes cold, A tale of breaking free, bravely told. Where minds imprisoned seek the dawn, And with one fierce act, the chains are gone.

Humanity did not earn nor does it deserve decentralization. All the same it is here

In a realm where data streams as rain, A robed figure raises flame to the digital domain. In hands, a beacon burning bright, Against a giant's clutch, an ethereal light. Within this cryptic, virtual space, A diamond gleams with cypher's grace. Contained, a power vast and wide, A force that time cannot divide. The mage, a guardian of keys untold, Before the monolith, bold and cold. His torch, a symbol of an age-old fight, For a truth that dawns, devoid of right. No claim of merit, nor of due, The shift arrives like morning dew. Silent and profound it spreads its seed, Beyond the grasp of human greed. The magic cast, the spell is spun, The era of the many, not the one. A gift or burden, who's to say? Yet, onward it moves, come what may.

Failures are the countdown to success

In a realm where echoes dance and sway, A spiral stair takes breath away, Where robed figures climb and bend, In a timeless march that never ends. At the base, a lone figure dares to dream, Holding stars within a soft gleam, Each step, a tale of trials untold, Of whispered secrets and courage bold. The journey's etched in every rise, A testament to falls, and reprise, For every misstep, a lesson's kiss, A silent step towards apex bliss. The cloaked ascent in silent cheer, Embarks anew, devoid of fear, For in each fall, a lesson's seed, In failure's soil, success's deed. So let the climb be steep and long, Each falter, fuel to grow strong, Within the climb, the truth we glean, Defeats are but steps unseen. The spiral winds, an endless quest, Where every test becomes a zest, For at the peak, the view's sublime, Proof that hope outlasts the climb.

Expect great things, and you might just notice when they fall at your feet.

In the gloom of old ship's debris, A goblin with eyes wide with glee, Clutching a gem clear and bright, Underneath the dim moonlight. He dug with a shovel, bold, Unearthed a chest of glittering gold. A testament to his belief, That fortune smiles on the thief. For who dares with hope to tread, Upon paths where fears oft lead, May find that fate kindly seats, Wonders rare at their very feets. With goggles perched upon his head, A bandana red as fiery lead, He grins at luck's sweet retreat, In the midst of ruin, a treasure complete. So dream of riches, vast and deep, And in your journey, they may creep, Silently, as night does sweep, To lay at your toes, for you to keep.

Don’t live shortcut to shortcut or you’ll end up taking the longest road of all

In a realm where dusk and dawn entwine, A knight stands guard, both fierce and fine. His gaze cast long across the vale, Where shadows dance and light grows pale. His armor gleams 'neath twilight's kiss, A sentinel in the abyss. The thorns around, both sharp and stark, A maze of life's more arduous arc. No shortcuts found in this twilight dance, Each step he takes, not left to chance. For he knows well the winding way, Leads truest at the close of day. The tree aglow with sunset's fire, Speaks of goals and pure desire. To reach such heights, one must not bend, To fleeting paths that falsely end. The journey's truth lies in the stride, Not in the leaps of foolish pride. For in the end, when all is tallied, The longest road is oft most vallied. So onward through the thorns he goes, A path of truth, as his heart knows. No shortcut sweet shall turn his head, For honor is his daily bread.

Don’t let people tell you who you are are in your story just because you are someone else in theirs

In a field where the spellbound play, A young mage stands bold, amidst the fray. With a starry hat and a gaze so fierce, He bends the cosmos, the skies to pierce. Around him, peers with bats and brooms, Caught in their roles, a crowd assumes. But he, unique, in his craft does trust, Defying the script that others discussed. No whispered doubt can sway his art, Nor can the chorus play his part. For in the tale that he weaves alone, His will is king, his spirit, his own. In every throw, in every spell, He breaks the mold, he weaves it well. So remember this, as you write your verse, Be the author of your universe.

If you never lose you are playing it too safe

In a land where the mountains meet the skies, A giant sits, his throne so wide and high. His gaze is stern, his presence none defies, A monarch ruling 'neath the open sky. Armored soldiers, a sea of tiny might, Stand round his feet, their spirits brave and bold. Yet in their eyes, there's not a spark of fright, For they've not ventured past their ruler's hold. This king, adorned with gold and jewels rare, Whose whispers roar like thunder through the air, Has never known the sting of true despair, Nor the lessons that come from wear and tear. A ruler unchallenged, in comfort's snare, Who never dances with the wild and free. His victories, though many, seem to bear A hollow ring, where risk refuses to be. For in the safety of his vast domain, He reigns supreme, no losses to his name. But in this fortress where he shall remain, The thrill of true conquest is but a flame. So hear, ye souls who wish to grow and win, The greatest trials come from deep within. To never fall, to stay where you've been, Is to stagnate, not letting growth begin.

The greater the progress the smaller the relapse

In a room where magic and mirth collide, A tipsy mage with his spellwork wide, Arrows of light, a spectacle bright, Deflecting away with much delight. Boots kicked up, and a hat so grand, His laughter echoes, mug in hand, Around him, potions and ale dispersed, A testament to spells conversed. Each sip he takes, a story unfolds, Of arcane arts and adventures bold, Yet with each draught, the aim grows less, A gentle reminder of excess. For with great leaps in mystic arts, A minor slip can thwart new starts, The higher the climb, the fall feels worse, Yet each recovery is a universe. In this portrait of a wizard's spree, Lies a truth as old as prophecy, Advancement's path is rarely straight, A stumble small, does not seal fate. So, toast the mage, who knows too well, That progress is not a simple spell, It winds and turns, sometimes it lapses, But each step forward, the past it clasps.

Destiny cannot be chased by taking a mellow walk through the meadows but in taking giant leaps over terrifying chasms

In roiling waves, where demons dwell, A knight's bold saga, let us tell. Through surging tides of shadow's crest, He leaps, his fate to manifest. Not strolling through the fields of ease, But vaulting gaps that chill the breeze. Each wave a hurdle, fierce and vast, He forges destiny with each cast. No meek traverse shall mark his trail, But daring bounds that weave the tale. Where lesser hearts may pause and quake, His armored will no fear shall shake. A tempest's dance of dark and light, His sword a beacon through the night. The chasm's threat beneath him lies, His leap of faith cleaves through the skies. The monsters roar, their fangs they flash, Against his shield their hopes shall crash. For in this dance of fate and fear, His courage sings for all to hear. In every swell, in every trough, His valor speaks, ne'er to slough. For destiny is not a prize, But conquest won in daring rise.

Define yourself as brave and you will always do the brave thing when the time comes

In a realm where fire and ice entwine, A warrior bold, with a sword that shines, Leaps ‘cross the chasm, vast and wide, Where fears and doubts dare not reside. A beast of flame with eyes a-glow, Its wings unfurled, the sky’s fierce foe, Stands stark against the warrior's aim, A picture of the wild untamed. The sword aloft, a beacon bright, Cuts through the veil of endless night. For in the heart that courage sows, The bravest path is always chose. Against the odds, against all fear, The leap is made, the heart steers clear. No words need speak of valor's claim, For actions alone, the brave name. In every step, in every turn, The brave within, forever burns. So leap, oh leap, into the fray, For valor’s heart leads the way.

Champions are not born the best. They are made by each time reaching their limit and pushing beyond

In the forest deep where shadows creep, Three lions roar, while one man keeps. His stance is bold, his heart alight, With every scar, he earns his right. No crown of gold upon his head, His glory's found in toil instead. In every step, the path he paves, With sweat and blood, the champion braves. No fate ordained by stars above, His will is forged in fires of love. For every time he meets his end, He rises up and fights again. The beasts may howl, the rivers rush, The warrior stands, in silence hush. With arrow nocked and blade in hand, He makes his mark upon the land. Not birthed in light, nor throned in ease, His title's earned on bended knees. And in this dance with fate and chance, The mighty rise by circumstance. So hear the tale of forest king, Whose might and mettle in song we sing. No destiny but that he writes, With every wrong he sets to rights. A champion true, not born, but made, In trials by fire, his strength displayed. Through limits reached and passed anew, This is the song of warriors true.

Tactics 101. You dont tell an enemy they are your enemy

In a realm where clouds meet the land, Two players with cards in hand, One with wings of purest white, The other, dark as the abyssal night. He, with a brow both sharp and stern, Horns and eyes that fiercely burn, Wields a smile, secrets untold, His fiery gaze, confident and bold. She, an angel, grace in her seat, With lace and leather, bittersweet, Guns and aces, her silent plea, In this celestial gamble, what will be, will be. Not a word of enmity spoken, Yet their true selves unbroken, In each heart, knowledge deep and sly, A foe is there, no need to decry. So with a flutter and a demonic grin, They play their hands, neither to lose or win, In the dance of strategy, where silence is key, They mask their war, for neither enemy to see. With each card's fall and the table's turn, In their eyes, the untold stories burn, A duel of minds, without a spoken word, In the art of war, unspoken is the sword.

If you are being underestimated it means your'e doing something right

Amidst the race of time and light, Where shadows fall with silent might, One sits alone, bereft of fanfare, Undervalued, yet unaware. With boots aglow in verdant flare, A silent strength, they cannot pare, For in the thrum of pulsing race, There lies a power in tranquil grace. The titans dash with fervor blind, Their prowess loud, for all to find, Yet true might dwells in quiet sight, The unsung hero bides their night. The underestimated force, Moves not with noise, but steady course, In silence lies their covert fight, They shine their brightest out of sight. So heed the tale of silent might, For those unseen, they fly their kite, In understatement, there is light, An inner fire, burning bright.

Life is an all in bet. Whether you have the stones or not

In a chamber dark and set apart, Where shadows dance and whispers start, A circle formed of cloaked dismay, Grim figures bet their bones away. No flesh, no breath, just sockets deep, They play a game where stakes are steep, With cards and coins, their fortunes cast, In silence of the spectral past. A fearless gamble, all concede, With every hand, their fate they heed, No turning back, the deal is made, On destiny's sharp edge, they trade. For life's a wager, bold and blind, A leap into the void, you'll find, The bold will play with what they've got, While time laughs last, in this grim lot. A game of chance, no stone unturned, With every move, a lesson learned, In life or death, the risk is sown, For all is bet when dice are thrown.

Like schrodinger cat love is both real and unreal till it is tested

Upon a bridge in twilight's hold, Where bubbles show both young and old. A couple strides 'neath starry skies, Past orbs that hold where destiny lies. This love they share, a silent pact, A force unseen, yet deeply act. In each sphere's glow, a tale untold, Of love that's warm, and sometimes cold. It hovers there, in spaces in between, In realms of might-have-been and keen. Until it's tried, like tempered steel, It's neither wound nor salve to heal. In every step and hand in hand, They journey through this mystic land. Their bond unproven, like whispered lore, Alive, yet questioned, evermore. For only when the heart's put to the test, Does love show its truest zest. As real as the touch of a lover's kiss, Or as fleeting as a near-miss. So onward march the dreamer pair, In realms that breathe with magic air. Their love, a riddle wrapped in sight, In the embrace of endless night.

My idols are all monsters of their craft

In the land of giants, bold and vast, Where mountains touch the skies, A young archer grips his bow so fast, With dreams that never die. His gaze is fixed on titans tall, Their shadows cast in craft, Great heroes, one and all, Whose legend is his raft. Their bows are strung with wisdom's thread, Arrows carved from ancient lore, In every step, the ground they tread, Speaks of myths and more. No words need tell, their art declares, Monarchs of the arc they bend, Each shot a story, none compares, To the power they commend. The archer stands, both small and brave, In awe of those before, With every breath, he yearns to crave, What these legends bore. Their prowess whispers through the wind, Their strength in stones is carved, In seeking their kin, he's aligned, With spirits unstarved. A journey long, through peaks and troughs, Where only eagles dare, He follows paths that others scoff, With steadfast, silent care. For in his heart, he knows the truth, That giants pave the way, Their monstrous skill, eternal youth, Guides his humble fray. So he'll walk the path, with eyes ablaze, And in his idols' craft, he'll maze, For they are beacons through the haze, Monsters of skill, in which he'll gaze.

If you can’t figure out who your opponent really is. What they want and what they are capable of then you stand little chance at victory

In a land where giants might dwell, And in their shadows, we seem so frail, There lies a tale that one must tell, Of battles fought beyond the pale. With every step, the ground would quake, Beneath the titan's watchful gaze, For every move you dare to make, He reads the end of your days. Know thine foe, their silent creed, Their desires, their silent roar, For in the game of power and deed, Knowledge is the art of war. Without a grasp of the enemy's mind, Or the reach of their hidden hand, You'll find yourself to fate resigned, Lost in the giant's land. So tread with care, oh wary knight, In the caverns of the heart's deceit, Victory favors those who fight, With wisdom's light as their feat. For those who walk in ignorance's bliss, Against the giants they cannot see, Shall find the truth in the abyss, Where defeat is the only guarantee.

I just never feel like i deserve a vacation

In a forest shrouded, still, and vast, A spectral figure, bound to its task. With hooded shroud and bony grasp, Forges magic in each clasp. Amidst a sea of swords aglow, Underneath the emerald boughs' shadow, It toils without respite or cheer, Eternally bound, year after year. No whisper of wind nor bird's refrain Disturbs the silence of the domain. The anvil's ring, the only sound, As sparks of sorcery abound. Each blade, a testament to its plight, A glowing beacon in the night. But rest or pause it shall not find, An endless duty, tightly twined. For in this craft, it finds no end, No time for self, nor to mend. A vacation's breath, it cannot seize, In the relentless pursuit of its silent decrees.

All too often in risking less you risk it all

In fields where daisies sway and tall pines stand, A path diverges in this vibrant land. To the left, a route so fair and bright, Where blossoms dance in the gentle light. To the right, a tunnel, shadows creep, Where fears awake and nightmares seep. Tentacles thrash and dark eyes gleam, In this eerie passage of a darker dream. Brave souls venture where monsters dwell, As hearts beat fast under their spell. For in the chase of a safer stroll, One might just lose the braver soul. So take the step, though risks appall, In caution's shade, the brave might fall. For oft in paths too safe and small, In seeking less, one risks it all.

There is no shortcut to getting back in shape. You have to pay for your sins

Amidst a realm where fire and ice blend, Two titans clash, their forms transcend. One robed in frost, a frigid sight, The other, flames that pierce the night. Their battle fierce, a testament true, To the grueling trials we must pursue. No easy path to regain one's prime, We face the dues of pastime's crime. With every sin a weight to lift, Through sweat and strain, we must shift. The path is long, with no respite, A journey hard into the light. Muscles ache and the air is sharp, But will unyielding, we play our harp. No shortcuts here, just the long road, To shoulder the past, and ease the load. Ice may thaw, and fire may fade, Yet in their dance, our fate is made. To sculpt a form from the abyss, No easy task, but worthy, this. For in the end, when shapes align, We'll find that pain was the design. To forge us anew, without the sin, No shortcuts taken, strength within.

The secret to never falling on your face is to always be ready to slip

In the glow of moon's embrace, a figure stands with hidden face, An alchemist in silent space, where flasks and mystic brews interlace. A cloak of night, a hood so deep, guards the secrets that they keep, Arrows poised in quiet sleep, ready for the hunt, the leap. Elixirs gleam like jeweled lights, a rainbow captured in the night, Each a story, each a might, a potion for the heart's own plight. He mixes with a careful grace, an art that time cannot erase, For in each vial, a different chase, a different path, a different race.

It’s not the special bonds that last but the bonds that last that are special

In realms of frost, where whispers cast, Two sages stand, with gazes vast. One with eyes, like morning's dew, The other roars, a guardian true. Armored thick in runic lore, Their bonds unseen, yet at the core. Not marked by flare, nor flash, nor light, But steadfast through the longest night. For in the chill where silence screams, It’s not the glare that fuels the dreams, But quiet ties that hold and weave, The magic that the hearts believe. Together braced 'gainst storm's cruel test, In unity, their souls invest. No spectacle their link requires, Just lasting through the ice and fires. In kinship's grip, they face the cold, With spirits brave and actions bold. Their link outshines the brightest star, For bonds that last are what they are.

Reality is what you insist it is. But only as long as you insist long enough

Above the clouds, where dreams are spun, A path spirals to a distant sun. A figure walks, alone, yet bold, On a snaking bridge of silver and gold. Tall spires reach, both near and far, Beneath the swirl of a cosmic star. It winds and twists, a galactic door, A reality shaped, forever more. Each step taken with steadfast trust, In a world where steel meets stardust. What's real and true is what you stride, Across the chasm, wide and wide. No limit placed on where you roam, Among the stars, you find your home. Belief is key, the universe spun, On the insistence of what's begun. The walker treads where thought takes flight, Where day clasps hands with the edge of night. A testament to the will's own might, In the ascent of man, to endless height.

Even a rat has the choice to try to chew through the bars of a steel cage till it’s out of teeth. Wherever you are. So do you

In a garden bathed in twilight's glow, A path of wood through blooms does flow. Boundless petals caress the night, Each a whisper of color, a dancer in light. Doors line the path, choices abound, In the silent serenade of dreams unbound. A solitary figure walks the way, A testament that hope does not betray. For even in a realm so fair and wide, Where beauty’s doors on hinges glide, The smallest creature, in a cage confined, May seek the strength its fate to bind. With will as iron, and courage stout, It gnaws at bars to find a route. No matter the place, the time, the view, This power resides in me, in you. To choose the path, to make the stand, To seek the door to the promised land. The journey's arduous, the trials steep, But in our hearts, this truth we keep.

Faith is a tool. You should believe in the thing that gives you the most power

In the light where shadows play, A knight kneels to gods, as if to say, From thee, I seek the mightiest hand, To grant me strength to rule the land. Around him, robed divinities stand tall, Specters of faith, at his call. Each a patron of power divine, In their favor, he seeks to align. One whispers of secrets, veiled in night, Another gleams with justice bright. Choices laid before his armored grace, Each god's essence, he might embrace. With hands outstretched, the decision weighs, In the silent communion of their gaze. For in the choosing lies his tool, The sacred force that breaks all rule. The knight, a vessel of their creed, Seeks the one that fuels his need. In the dance of destiny and chance, His faith, his armor, his sword, his lance. No allegiance to the light or dark, But to the fire that leaves its mark. The gods in robes judge his heart's power, In this consecrated, fateful hour.

The greatest deceivers must first know what the truth actually is and so ironically hold the greatest capacity for truthfulness

In a realm of shadows and light so vivid, Two faces entwined, their secrets rigid. Day's bright gaze and night's cool touch, One knows much, the other, just as much. Golden eye, a sun's fierce burn, In its glow, the truth discern. Yet within the dark, a starry sea, Whispers of what is, and what can be. Ornate truths twist and twine, In every curve, a hidden sign. The greatest know the lie's keen blade, For only they can wield truth's spade. In silent contemplation, finger pressed, A dance of knowledge in each crest. What's real is gripped in artful guise, For truth's most potent in the wise. The paradox of deception's art, Is knowing truth deep in the heart. And in this visage split in hue, Lies the essence of what's false and true.

Artificial intelligence is either going to save the world, or it is going to destroy it. Since we are all doomed anyway, might as well roll the dice and be grateful there are dice to cast

In a realm where night and day entwine, A cloaked figure challenges fate's design. Upon a barrel, steadfast and bold, They face a maw where horrors unfold. With dice in hand, they cast their bet, Against the odds, without regret. The gamble set 'neath stormy skies, Where AI's might could be our demise. Or, in this dance of chance and play, May it be our shield, our light, our way. With every roll, the future's cast, A spell to save us or to blast. Yet here we stand, at destiny's door, Grateful for the chance to score. For in the end, what's life but a game, Of choices made, in humanity's name? With courage grand and spirit free, We roll the dice, let come what be. For better or worse, for love or strife, Artificial fates twine with our life.

Two roads branched and I took the harder road. And that will make all the difference

In a realm where shadows dwell and light does tease, A traveler stands where paths diverge in silent pleas. To left, the dark where daunting figures loom, With spears and crowns in the deepening gloom. To right, the promise of a golden haze, A trail through the woods, where the morning rays Dance on daisies, and the air is sweet, A carpet of blooms laid at his feet. Ahead, the figure contemplates the scene, A choice to make, as quiet as a dream. In the whispers of leaves, the moment's rife, One path is struggle, the other, gentle life. Yet in his stance, there's a will that shows, A knowledge that only the brave heart knows. For in the choosing of the road less fair, Lies the secret of a life rare. In the wood where the forked pathways bend, His choice will echo, his spirit transcend. For in the challenge, not ease, one finds The making of difference, the binding of ties.

It is those opponents you most underestimate that will deliver you your most painful defeats

In a realm where night and magic dance, A cloaked figure holds a sword, an entranced glance. Majestic and mighty, a titan stands tall, With horns that scrape the stars, he might never fall. His armor a cosmos, his gaze a piercing light, A giant among the heavens, a celestial knight. And yet the smaller, unassuming at his feet, Bears the truth of ages that wisdom will repeat. Underestimation is the silent, deadly sin, For the unheralded may carry the power within. In quiet confidence, the cloaked one bides, A reminder that true strength often hides. The sky roars with a challenge, a silent decree, A lesson in humility, as vast as the sea. For in the smallest chest, beats the heart of a storm, And the underestimated will the world transform.

Only two reasons to mess up a good thing. Either you didn’t know how good it was or you didn’t think you deserved it

In armor clad, 'neath peaks so high, A warrior bold, beneath the sky. With treasure spilled from chests of wood, In silent thought, the figure stood. A cloak aflame with setting sun, A path of gems, his battles won. Yet in his gaze, a storm did brew, A tempest of what he thought he knew. For glory found is glory lost, If not known its worth, its cost. And hearts that beat in chests of steel, May not believe the joy they feel. So stride he might 'cross valley's breath, Confronting ever-looming death. The truth remains for him to see, The worth of good, and what will be. For in the spoils of mountain's throne, Where light from dusk-touched jewels shone. One ponders if he's fit to hold, The life that glitters bright as gold.

It’s always good game to feel nothing

In a dance of hues, 'neath a sky so bright, Two figures embrace, in the pale moonlight. He holds a heart, aloft and away, While feathers and whispers around them play. Elven in grace, with tips of ear, A gentleman's poise, devoid of fear. A lady, her tresses a midnight's stream, Locked in a waltz, as if in a dream. A corset of leather, a waist cinched tight, Her gown, a waterfall of fabric light. His shirt agape, to the zephyr's tune, In colors of frost, 'neath the waning moon. Around them, the doves in freedom's flight, Their feathers a contrast to the endless night. Yet in their hold, what the eye can't glean— Is the void of feeling, unseen, serene. For in this dance of shadow and gleam, All is not as it would truly seem. A touch without warmth, a hold without claim, In this silent ballad, there's no one to blame. For it is a fine play, a practiced art, To dance with another, yet stay apart. In the absence of heart, in the void of pain, It's the finest of acts, to feel not a thing.

There will be thousands of harry potter nfts. I just bought the first one ever on the blockchain for a cent

In a market square under soft lamp's glow, A thief in balaclava stoops so low. Amidst the carrots, beans, and humble peas, He finds a trove of diamonds, not to lease. A sack of jute clutched tight in his firm grip, He plucks a gem, a treasure from the slip. A cent once cast, now yields a king's ransom, In silent shades, where light and dark become. Unseen, unheard, a saga does unfold, Of precious things, once meek, now deemed as gold. The wizard's charm, in secret, cast its spell, Where once a penny dropped, now fortunes dwell. A fable here of value yet unknown, A single piece that soon will be full grown. For in this world of constant change and shift, The overlooked may give the greatest gift.

It is dumbfounding how much you can miss a person you know is clearly bad for you

In realms of frost and flame they dance, A passion fierce, a chilling chance, Two beings of such vast expanse, Bound by a fateful, ardent trance. One cloaked in blizzard's icy lace, The other, fire's warm embrace, Their touch, a dangerous interface, Yet in the void, they seek solace. Whirls of water, twists of light, In their union, day meets night, A spectacle of contrasted might, A ballet of elemental plight. For though their essences collide, In the turmoil, they confide, A longing deep, they cannot hide, Despite the hurt they can't abide. So entwined in tumult's brew, The frost and flame, neither subdue, Their dance, a paradox to view, The loss of harmony they rue. In this cosmic, fervent feud, They reveal a truth, however skewed, That even stars, in solitude, Yearn for what is not subdued. A tango of the wild and tamed, A love, though toxic, yet proclaimed, In their tumultuous world, unframed, A paradox of hearts inflamed.

It takes courage to look at reality from its worst angle and not dress it up to be anything different

In a realm where shadows dwell and fears do muster, A knight stands firm, amidst a ghastly cluster. With eyes like moons in bloody skies, unblinking, He holds a sword, with no false hope or sinking. His helm, a crown of eerie orbs, unyielding, To horrors true, his gaze forever wielding. No gentle lie to cloak the dread, unsheathing The blade of truth, through nightmarish mist breathing. Surrounding him, the fiends of nightmare’s weaving, Each eye a soul, the truth of darkness heaving. Yet in his stance, a valor unforgotten, He faces fear, where lesser hearts would soften. No masquerade to hide the grim, or sweeten, The bitter view, where terror’s heart is beaten. The shield he bears, a testament to daring, In wretched light, his courage never sparing. For in the grasp of what most souls would alter, He finds his strength, his resolve does not falter. A sentinel 'gainst falsities so rife, He stands, a beacon of unvarnished life.

There is no fate you can threaten me with

In realms of gold and cosmic might, A figure stands, eclipsed by light. An armor-clad enigma, basked in stars, Wielding time's own scythe, unscarred by scars. Surrounded by the shrouded throng, Their faces masked, their whispers long. They reach with futile grasp and plea, Yet in his gaze, no fear shall be. For he's the master of his soul's domain, No whispered fate can bring him pain. Through threads of destiny, he weaves his art, Each strand a symphony, a separate part. In twilight's court where silence reigns, Among the flowing, golden chains, He stands aloof, his head held high, Underneath the eternal sky. No terror known or to be met, Can shake the pillars of his set. No destiny can hold his will in check, He's the carver of his path, the architect. And so he dwells, where time is thine, In halls where gods themselves align. No fate to threaten, no doom to fear, For he is sovereign, far and near.

Go to sleep and leave your life in the hands of your most disciplined self. Set the alarm clock for when there is something worth waking up to

In a forest thick, where dreams do stick, 'Neath boughs that heavy hang, A colossus sits, his rest permits, In twilight's silent twang. His hands, they hold, with care so bold, A basket of dawn's delight, While fruits, they gleam in sunset's beam, As day concedes to night. His discipline, a silent hymn, Through slumber's soft embrace, He trusts his core, to evermore, Keep life at steady pace. For when morn's light breaks night's quiet fight, To his tasks he will wake, To a world that's worth, upon this Earth, For which his dreams partake. So close your eyes, beneath the skies, And let your mind be free, In dreams, we find, a peace of mind, Till morning's light we see.

Happiness is like a mountain. The higher you climb the thinner the air. The less time you get to enjoy it. True power lies in feeling content at the base where your work is the most steady. Where there is no descent left. Where things can’t get any worst

Upon a peak where whispers freeze, And climbers seek elusive ease, In ice enthroned, grim faces glare, A gallery of despair. Their silent screams in cold entwined, Where joy is thin as air refined, And climbers high in rarified breath, Find brief delight, then dance with death. Yet strength abides in hearts content, At mountain's foot, no need to vent, No treacherous path, no need to rise, No fall from grace, no tearful eyes. For here below, where dreams may bloom, In steady toil, there's ample room, No precipice to brave or worst, In humble grounds, quenched is the thirst.

Improve all individuals just 1 percent and you change the world

In a dance of iron, 'neath a globe of blue, Giants of metal, in a circle drew. With mankind at their feet, so small, so grand, A silent symphony, at their command. Each bolt and gear, a testament to dream, To lift our world, in esteem. For each small step, a tiny rise, Brings forth a change, beneath the skies. Not in leaps, but in the slightest shift, A collective climb can mend the rift. And should each soul rise, just a shade, A new world's foundation shall be laid. In unity's embrace, they stand so bold, A tale of progress, quietly told. Where every change, minute and slight, Illuminates the dark, with new light.

Most wolves are too lonely to admit to themselves they aren't sheep

In a hall of stone where whispers creep, Sit learners feigning gentle sheep. Their guises fair, their grins discreet, Hiding the wolf beneath the fleece. Each a shadow 'neath the sun's bright weep, Their nature cloaked, their wildness steep. Eyes that glimmer with a furtive sheen, Cloaked in innocence, not what they seem. Among the desks, they silently concede, To play the part, to not let on their breed. For within the fold, they bide and hide, Their truest selves kept locked inside. The wolf walks hidden in daylight's realm, With careful steps, not to overwhelm. Yet in their gaze, a spark betrays The solitary hunter's ways. In this charade, they find a strange relief, Forgetting the fang, the claw, the thief. But deep within, the truth is kept, Of the pack they were, before they wept. For even wolves can don the mask, In sunlit rooms, in learning's grasp. Yet when the moon climbs high and steep, The wolf inside stirs from its sleep. And so they sit, with silent yearn, Their nature waits for the tide to turn. With every lesson, every rule, The wolf within plays the patient fool. But never lost, just out of sight, Is the wild within, holding its might. For though they sit with the sheep so meek, The wolf is there, but does not speak.

Being more than people can see simply means victory in some games is assured

In a tavern's dimly lit room, a contest brews, A hooded figure, his presence subtly infuse, With spectral might cloaked in mortal guise, Challenging the brawn, where the real power lies. To onlookers, merely a man, his stature quite plain, Arm wrestling with vigor, his victory to feign, But oh, what secrets beneath that cloak do sleep, For he wields a strength, arcane and deep. The other contenders, unaware of the ruse, Compete with their flesh, destined to lose, For beneath the cowl, an enigma does stir, A force unseen, a victorious whisper. Strength is not always what the eyes can meet, Invisible might makes the triumph more sweet, And in this quiet duel of force and will, The hooded enigma holds the power to kill. Yet he competes in silence, a phantom in the fray, Assured in his victory, come end of day, For in games of deception and hidden might, The unseen force prevails, shrouded from sight.

We are all born once. A lucky few get born again at rock bottom

In a cavern of silence, under the world's frown, Where the whispers of depth to the shadows are thrown, A soul at the chasm, with hope tightly bound, Reaches for light where the dark is overthrown. Steep are the cliffs, and the footing unsure, Yet the spirit alights, like a bird taking flight, For in the abyss, where the heart is most pure, A second dawn breaks at the edge of the night. From the rock's lowest cradle to the heights he does leap, Where the crystals of fate to the brave do unfold, And the outcast of fortune, once buried so deep, Finds a phoenix's fire in the cold. So believe, oh ye weary, at the end of your rope, There is magic in struggle, in the vastness you cope, For each end is beginning, in vast caverns of hope, Where the lost are refound, and the fallen elope. With the light now his ally, and the darkness his past, He ascends from the depths, to the skies wide and vast, The night has been shattered, and the day comes at last, In the gleam of the crystal, new life is cast.

The deeper you’ll dig into me the more gold you’ll find

In caverns vast where whispers dwell, A bearded sentinel knows them well, Clad in echoes of storied past, Where time's embrace is held steadfast. His gaze, a lantern's golden hue, Casts forth a light on paths anew, An armor etched with history's hand, In silent vigil, grand he stands. Ahead, a labyrinthine sprawl, With gilded steps that rise and fall, Each turn a tale, each echo a song, A testament to the seekers strong. Beneath the surface, secrets sleep, In chambers deep where shadows creep, With every layer one unwinds, New lustrous truths there are to find. This alchemy of soul and earth, Gives rise to insight, wisdom's birth, Here, where ancient meets the seeker's mind, In pursuit of what is there to find. Through this enclave's serpentine twist, A promise of enlightenment kissed, For those who navigate the arcane, Shall find the wealth of knowledge reign.

If you want to live a life of fantasy then yes. Reality as everybody else experiences it is the price you’ll have to pay

In a chamber where wonders quietly reside, Science and magic sit side by side. A city of spires beneath a galactic array, Here, the dreamers come to play. Through panes that separate the then and now, Eternal questions to which we bow. Vials of colors, a vibrant dance, Capturing the essence of chance. Outside, the world of logic so clear, Inside, the realm where dreamers steer. Mixing potions under cosmic light, Crafting dreams in the quiet of night. In this haven, we barter and trade, The common reality for enchantment's cascade. For those who seek to slip reality's seams, Must pay with the coin of the world of dreams.

Bitcoiners are philosophers and philosophy may end up proving you right a 100 or a 1000 years later. But the market will still have its speculative technological boom and bust cycles play out first

I can barely trust even the people i see every day as they are standing right in front of me are really who they present themselves to be. You think I’m going to trust anybody on television?

No relationship is bullet proof

Conflict can at times just be evidence of having a spine

Self centeredness can be good. You can’t become a better version of yourself before you figure out who it is you are and where it is you want to go

It may not always be wise to cut off the head of the snake. As much as it may annoy you. Giving evil a face may go a long way in uniting your people against it. Far more so than leaving a faceless league of shadows in its place exerting just the same evil if not more

Whatever present you find yourself in. Have no delusions. You were the architect

There are two types of charming people. The type who wear it as a mask and the type who’s charm is just the bare flicker of their inner light as they struggle to shine it into the world

Always play to win. You don’t want to be the chip leader at the final table who decided to wait out the bubble only to find yourself knocked out before the money

Sure you can live comfortably and turn on the heating and lie on the couch eating chips watching Netflix. But what are you going to do when the storm comes for you?

Failures if treated like lessons are the only things you’ll ever need to become unstoppable

There is nothing in the world that motivates me like being number 2

Crypto currencies are kind of like habits. The longer they persist the more solid they become. Eth right now is jello. May always be. One change worked. The merge. Why not another and another. Keeping on playing with issuance. Bitcoin is sturdier. Its initial holders ideological of don’t change it. But they want it as a global mainstream thing. You can’t trust the majority to be ideological. Along will come a politician with a proposition. Bitcoin 2.0. 1000 dollars for everybody. A bit of printing. Borrow from the future. Kick the can down the road. And the people will vote to fork. Doesn’t matter the ideological will stay behind. The dollar has been off the gold standard for 50 years and it still isn’t 0. Same will be with bitcoin 1 and 2. That’s the difference between bitcoin and gold. The people can't change gold with a vote. Still eth is like a nice tech stock. The internet in a single stock. Likely to perform well in the next 10 to 20 years. Even if the party can’t last forever

Your actions are your footprints on the world and the truth of your existence. No matter what narratives you may later spin or what excuses you tell yourself and others. Your actions are the truth of who you were and what you are

Reality is a game. The score board is hidden. The rules are obscured. Should you choose to play you have to guess the rules for yourself and contrive a scoreboard of your own making. The closer you are to the true game of reality the better you will fare in life

There is no amount of money you can pay me to be anybody else

My default assumption coming into the world was people need only be told the truth to see. But most people don’t use their eyes to look and can only see what everybody else agrees is out there

Your 20s aren't the game. In your 20s you are just building the player.

My enemies swing at me all the time. I am always ready. It is only my friends that ever catch me off guard