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Snow falling silently , the alluring shimmer of each snowflake for miles on end.Clouds block the fiery eye of sky, its warmth ripped from the earth. As the air grows colder , the grass starts to freeze , flowers hoping for the light. Whats worse , knowing that beyond the clouds is life or that the sun can’t do anything but to stay in place waiting knowing that the night will take what it made.

As the flower freezes to its core and then a thin ray shines from a crack in the blanket in the sky.At last the sun makes its appearance , but only to witness a gentle gust of air blow the flower into tiny dust that flows with its murderous wind.

A beautiful sight of color as each petal flows free from its cage.The desolate landscape of winter, it’s beautiful yet cold embrace.In our everyday lives our ego clouds our warmth , and storms into pride.

​ That pride blows its murderous wind on unsuspecting life. Don’t stay in place , let your fiery sun burn through those clouds and warm the colorful soul. 

The Sound Dahvik Sehva

In my agony I realize that I cannot sleep. A sudden chill crawls up my arm and sinks it’s teeth into my heart. The heinous sound surrounds me, reverberating around my room. Even scratching chalkboard would be a alluring symphony compared to this never ending transmission that consumes my soul.I peer into my closet and sense the dark void it connects to. As the white and grey skeletons stick their heads out and calmly indicate that the source of the sound is not there. I turn my attention to my window. The screeching does not change in volume and the once gorgeous night shows no light.The moon erased from existence, the thick fog that now surrounds my vision corrupts my senses. It constricts me, creating endless blurs, then the sound grows in strength. I close my window and another chill goes down my spine. A silhouette now lays on my bed, dents appear on the blanket.​ As I focus and marvel at this unnatural phenomenon it slowly breathes. I lean toward this figure that intrudes my eden and the screeching grows with intensity. The source then forms behind me. The demon that lays on my bed takes a final deep breath and exhales. My face appears on that silhouette on my bed, exhausted of air. The sound surrounds me grabs my soul and pulls it into the All. — Send in a voice message: Support this podcast:
  1. The Sound
  2. Ego
  3. Progression

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