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cyanessence
2 9,265 M Pacing Forward 1
PathStep 1 Compassion hearts3,707 Forum posts1,570 Forum upvotes3,373 Current upvotes3,373 Age GroupAdult Last activeSeptember, 2026 Member sinceMay 6, 2025
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I don't do things for fun. I have no fun. I don't like reading.















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forgotten hues of blue
Poetry / by cyanessence
Last post
 Sunday
...See more *forgotten hues of blue* The day wore on her searing skin, scorching any daring enough to feel its chill. Yet another wandered beneath clouds of regret, failing to feel the cleansing rains that poured. How could they ignore, she thought, the biting cold of selfish pursuit? Me, mine, I, myself, all said without regard for the ear that hears. Brutal forces tearing bread from broken hands left the giving with nothing to receive. Confused must be the community that takes bones from the dead to construct fences designed for solitude. Raving brags of how the other was had in a bad deal was the madness that made the crowds lament. As the birds flew to find somewhere less lost, an icy idea withered stillness of mind. Mystified by tangles of paths trodden by apathy, the forest offered chance to remember tomorrow. To neglect the darkness night brings sours each new dawn. To reside among the many that never shed tear dried the well of well-being. Escaping to leaves, seeking relief from blight and scorn, would be the only remedy that granted respite to mourn. Boundless sorrow, denied of attention, deprived view of bountiful colour. Witnessing the fallen writhe, absent of emotion, turned once sweet cries bitter. Within the refuge of trees that grew, perhaps, too, she would learn to grow. Sight of flying leaf is unseen when the woods that tend become walls that do not home, merely house. Under canopies of green, alone, at last, she could douse her woes with forgotten hues of blue.
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*excess "innovation"*
Poetry / by cyanessence
Last post
 September 10th
...See more *excess "innovation"* Whatever happened to the basic suitcase No I do not want wheels on my suitcase No I do not want compartments in my suitcase No I do not want flair on or in my suitcase All I require from a suitcase is a basic box that I can carry Yet, that is nowhere to be found Innovation in excess leaves the basics in the dust - *sufficiency and excess* sufficiency as opposed to excess yields contentment excess is without limit sufficiency is bounded house with known boundaries can feel homely house forever under construction is never complete
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taste of concern
Poetry / by cyanessence
Last post
 September 4th
...See more *taste of concern* I acquired a beverage Yay Something to quench thirst Yet something tastes not funny The second ingredient listed on the opaque can is "colour" Colour is not for drinking is it? I, personally would not colour apple juice My main concern is the final ingredient "flavour" No number listed simply, "flavour" "Flavour" could be literally anything No way to know without a number What am I drinking? I do not know Some dark hue and a "flavour" that tastes of concern This is why I like the honesty of Shichimi Togarashi which plainly lists its ingredients Red pepper Orange peel White sesame Black sesame Japanese pepper Seaweed Ginger Good stuff, Shichimi Togarashi I especially appreciate the honesty "Flavour"... "Flavour"... My thirst for such a mysterious beverage has been quenched as I refuse to consume that which cannot be discerned "Flavour"... "Flavour"... The taste of concern - Leave someone in the dark and all they see is darkness
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normalcy
Poetry / by cyanessence
Last post
 August 4th
...See more "Arya, be normal!", they demanded. Be like clay to mould, then let the harsh rays of Helios weather until nothing but rubble remains. Could curl under the covers of book after book 📖, seek shade from parchment 📜, gleam over letters 📄 that glisten in the flickering moonlight 🌔... Maybe toil for coin 🪙, barter for favour, tend a crop into a field to savour... But when the ravens that fly don't seem to land where the money 💰 falls, nor near the rampant ramblings of bustling crowds that share in tainted goods... Wonder whether there'd be more to see, shifting as a fog around dwellings of stained-glass and marbled wood 🪵. To perceive what is claimed to be normalcy may, indeed, grant perception to be the glimmering the normal strain to reach. Quiet as a fallen feather 🪶,  dim as fading candle 🕯,   tough to ignite 🔥 the straw    that broke home's mantle     without burning the houses 🏘
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body homed, houses
Reading & Writing / by cyanessence
Last post
 July 31st
...See more Some measure their worth by IQ. Some, EQ. But, are such things measures of worth? Can worth even be measured? Is it worthwhile to measure worth? And, what comes from measuring or comparing worth? The wise may think it wise to never measure wisdom, never gauge or count intellect. Is it wise to litter for a crow Does the crow tell the magpie when to swoop Litter for littering crow from bag of bread could provide bag for hand When emotion is lost, what drives intellect? When those that cannot or will not communicate, cannot or will not do or quote an IQ test, is their intellect diminished? To be confined within a box, where all properties and characteristics of the walls, floor, and ceiling are known, the air breathed could be forgotten; count the rocks in a cave long enough and you may have counted rocks that led to a chamber with no atmosphere. Without wit, could there be creativity? Sand from a beach can depict image on bitumen in town–the cost of pen, paper, brush, paint, pencil, chalk, charcoal... it can limit those burdened by the expense of survival. And, without wit, could there be humour? We do not grade senses of humour in schools, yet we laugh, guffaw, and cheer with our comedians, comedians that may act, speak, and/or portray whilst struggling with conditions such as dyslexia and PTSD; humour helps in that it enlightens softly–to relate joyously can be reparative. The cunning could never speak, yet bestow their community with gifts contributed anonymously; something never lost, mysteriously found, can confound so much so, it causes a kind of kind metamorphosis. Can the agile outpace those that dwell in intellectual pursuits? Can agility outspeed those that climb cliffs seeking wisdom? A rock thrown never strikes the agile; water thrown can be deflected by those quick with an umbrella. Further, the agile need not move fast to foster a landslide. Neanderthals would have had senses of morality, like birds that mourn those lost too soon, like felines that accompany the lost and/or fading, like the hound that flees upon sighting a hissing kitten. Did they have dexterity? How could they not? To craft a tool with no tools surely is a dexterous act–to thread a needle may be difficult, but to craft either with only hands would have been a handful of handy work. Can someone outsmart intellect? Intelligence may make a vehicle, but the smart may walk the alleyways, finding all sorts of sorts while giving the gym a run for its money. Can a scoundrel outmanoeuvre the agile, the dexterous, the cunning? Such wit can be disarming... to tamper with a weapon may make the wieldy falter, no matter their speed, precision, and skill. When we measure worth, by things such as money, we lose sight of inherent worth. Nature may bring flora and fauna into the world, but without conscientious nurture, nature can become mortar and pestle. Energy provided by sugar alone can erode the walls that home the body that build the walls for the home and the body deserves to be homed *body homed, houses*
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photo diary
Journals & Diaries / by cyanessence
Last post
 Saturday
...See more
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stone path
Poetry / by cyanessence
Last post
 July 23rd
...See more How sneak up on stone Make stone path sneak up on stone Does stone path? No direction, no intention yet path leads somewhere
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bami
Poetry / by cyanessence
Last post
 July 23rd
...See more to have vietnamese food so wonderfully prepared steeped in history shapes heart flavours develop as temperature changes hot food, that warms with aroma art in a dish would thaw my frozen tears even when cooled even when chilled by Winter winds *bami*
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