Young Writers Society

It's a chaos such that I cannot discern truth in my reveries;
I ache to feel the concrete reality, the solid weight of rationality beneath my feet,
but these phantom sensations, elusive as mist, persist in their evasiveness;
with its infinitesimal creases of confusion;
and the twinge of uncertainty that plagues my thoughts,
as my mind navigates the labyrinth of illusions,
and the enigmas buried beneath layers of delusion - I dream of clarity as though it is a specter
drifting and wavering as if we are submerged in a wind of bewilderment,

and like a leaf

the universe's whispers echo not in my final destination,
but in the gentle lap of the lake against my veined form,
in the soft sigh of satisfaction, the quiet hum of harmony,
as I float, as I flutter, as I journey from sky to sea
for the true reward is not the embrace of the earth, but the expedition,
in the joy of drifting, in the pleasure of dancing, in the waltz of the waters.

Unfurling from the arm of a mother tree,
bathing in the lustrous sheen of the morning sun,
dancing with the rhythm of the whispering wind,

to take a leap into the river of life,
flowing beneath me with its ever-changing melody,
softly strummed on the strings of constant motion.

and so, I detach, I descend, pirouetting in the air,
each swirl, each spin, a verse in my ballad of existence,
each gust, a gentle guide, spiraling me towards my destiny,
each moment I draft my story, line by line, in the canvas of creation,

sketching the silhouette of success with the hues of passion and persistence.
In the face of hurdles, I am not the fallen, but the child at play,
rising from the dust of defeat, ready to embrace the depth of my journey.

The echoes of the universe reverberate not in my moments of done,
but in the hushed whispers of wonder, the soft sighs of satisfaction,
that slip from my lips as I sculpt my dreams, as I shape my destiny.

And so, I thrive, I dance, serenading the storm,
each pirouette, each twirl, an echo of my life’s cacophonous chorus.
in the gaze of chaos, I am not the confounded, but the composer,
crafting my masterpiece in the theater of turmoil, ready to revel in the rapture of the riot.