In any system, the quality of the output is entirely dependent on the quality of the input, and so we must be prepared to refashion our opinions when we realise that the initial input was faulty - be that in terms of data, intentions or empathy.
The box changed its contents depending on the opener, for it sensed their emotions and intensions, not giving them what they wished for but what an intelligent universe thought best for themselves and the rest of creation. Yet it was more complex than that, for it gave its control to the dark force when humanity was destined to destroy creation and to the light force when humanity was destined to save creation and each other. But who could change this destiny? Who could shift the moral compass of humanity and win the allegiance of the box?
The forest hums with life all around me. I twirl about, gazing up at the canopy, searching for the birds that sing sweetly. The sun breaks through the cracks, lighting up the dirt path ahead of me, decorated with outgrown roots, wildflowers and fallen leaves that crunch beneath my bare feet. I trudge on, taking in the fragrance of minty grass and the damp earth. Each breathe is like water, fresh and cleansing, flowing freely into my lungs.
A derelict house stood before me, repugnant and mouldy. Only fear anchored my feet in the darkness. An immense storm could be heard in the distance, echoing through the silent night. Lighting ripped the inky sky. The silver hues of clouds became as molten silver, swirling, ripples radiating. I crept to the paint-crumbling door amid low struggling trees.
I twisted the handle of the door, it creaked, the sound becoming whispers that filled the room, urging me to run lest I end up as lost and lonely as they. One moment I was outside, the next I was within, despite never taking a step. The door slammed. There was no exit. The floorboards moaned with age. Suddenly something tugged at me, something with a icy grip...
Her hair flowed down her back like black ink of a tilted piece of parchment. Her eyes were fox-like and had an icy greyish green hue like the first sprouts of plants in the snow.
She was my angel. Because I fell for her demons first. Vowed to kill and bleed for her. I was the devil of the story. But her presence gave me a reason to want to go to heaven. How she could affect souls! It was awe-inspiring. Worth seeing. She was the one, who loved me eternally, irrevocably, and unconditionally. She had me in her thrall. She completed me. Washed away the blood of brutality off me.
Her voice was more soothing than a thousand kisses. Her touch was softer than feather. She was the proof that one could walk through hell, and still be an angel. She knew me inside and out, and still loved me for what I was. She was my guardian angel.
The echoes of our summer days remain as flowers immune to winter chills.
Photosynthesis means light-making, for "photo" means light, and "synthesis" means making, the same way one could synthesise music. And so, what is the light making? Sugars, right? And what do plants give out? What helps us to breathe? Oxygen, right? So we already get it that plants need light, that they make sugar and oxygen.
And so, what is it that plants are making the sugar and oxygen from? Well, they need water, right? And they take carbon dioxide out of the air -that's how they help to fight global warming. So we also get it that they are using water and carbon-dioxide.
So, you already know it, you just need to let yourself realise that you get it. They plants are making sugars and oxygen from water and carbon-dioxide and using light energy. And all that happens in those little green blobs called chloroplasts - the blobs that make plants green!
In your eyes I see home. In your soul there is the kind of passion that brings solace to my fire, enough to bring out my earthen nature and calm. Your arms become my cocoon, a place to heal my soul. For living as a phoenix requires refuge, especially after those times I must become flame in the defence of the defenceless, a light in the darkness, before again returning to ashes. Has nobody ever wondered how a phoenix must feel or what they may need? So, lover, I could live infinite lifetimes and desire you. I would live infinite mortal lives to save you, to bring you home. In all honesty, I'm not sure who is saving who in this scenario, but from what this universe has shown me, it's almost certainly a bit of both. I choose you because I need someone who will hold on to my soul no matter what happens, that will trust me to do the same for them. And in this entire crazy world the only one the universe trusts me into the care of is you. That much I'm clear on. That makes you unique. That makes you special. It also makes you my twin soul, my companion by divine design. So this fire of mine that burns all others, will touch you as fine silk, as the spark of a heaven-spun love. It will ignite you within when nothing else can. Even if you are ice or stone, it will reach you and save you. So, weave your fingers into mine and let the future begin.
It was a sunny day near Christmas when I met the old lady. I sat near her because she was alone. We talked for a while about what ailed her, and I gave her the telephone number of someone who could help get her back on her feet and into a cycle of positive health. Yet somehow, in the cosmic scheme of the universe, I realised that she had given me advice that was worth as much or more. As I'd reached for one mince pie after another, and offered to bring her one too, she simply commented that she didn't eat between meals. For her generation that was normal, a skill learned in childhood and carried on into adult years. After many failed attempts at different weight loss methods, I gave it a go. Three simple meals, all nutritious and portion controlled, no snacks, plus simple exercise on most days - all from YouTube videos or riding a bike. I lost the weight easily and kept it off. Self control is a battle worth winning, being your own "boss" feels great.
