As instruments are brought to tune,
An ear I'd ask to lend,
to hear a verse o' geist of fortune,
and its friend.

Avoided are its path and so to is its wake,
its passage snuffs out candlelight,
so who would ever make,
an offer of respite?

A being so benevolent extending friendship's bond,
its eyes saw through the suffering veil,
and while the geist its friend was fond,
misfortune did entail.

Despite the stay of respite lasting night and day,

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Perhaps what awaits us is pleasant? A notion often dismissed by those who have thought deep on the topic. It grows all the more pleasant, the less we know about it. Often, we can see things up, but we only notice the bottom, when it is clearly labeled. How much do we have provide?

Happy Filthy Friday of Matte Month~.

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Thus the time of change comes, the world alters around us. Each step, each decision, we mould it. And it turn, it moulds our vessel. But, that is only what the world interacts with, our masks. There is something deeper, the roots that fuel the high crowns of verdant splendor, something our decisions merely scratch the surface to.
Yet, in time, even that can wear.

Happy Filthy Friday the 13th~.

Some words hold power in the same way the unknown does. I can take comfort in words, every day I see them, they imprint a calm in the knowledge I am aware what each one means. That is, until posed against certain, particular compositions of letters.

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Once when I was younger, I looked upon the cities and streets. Eyes growing wide as I turned to my guardian: "But, to think of all this street, that takes so long to build."
"Yes." They responded.
"And look at all these buildings. It takes so much work, from so many people, just to raise a single building, and we have so many of them."
"Yes." They responded.
"Is it not... bewildering, to imagine how much work this all must have taken?"
"Yes." They responded.

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Yes you read that right, I am postponing the return of Journey To Hearth's Warming. Instead of it returning in February, it will return in March. This is due to to three massive things that I need to worry about. First, this month's return to university work was rather bumpy so I need time to adjust. Second, you might have noticed I started a new story called Friendship Needs a Bodyguard, though I have been working on this piece for much longer then you might think I do want to get some way

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Today is rather quiet, there is too much going on.
Funny how that works, is it not?

With enough changes to leave ordinary life a juggling struggle, it is uncertain if it will be kept steady, or if we will eventually lost balance.

Until then, enjoy Filthy Friday on the other profiles with Stories, and have a fantastic weekend, one and all~.

Today we have a new story coming up, how will Twilight react when all her friends have shrunken

Vision blotted by tears, the window to the soul grows dim. It shields the self in a bubble, reflecting ever inwards to offer a moment of respite. Perhaps it shuts out the world for a moment, to pretend nothing else exists. But, it is in the world that the self is made. However painful it becomes, eventually we blink.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Off in the distance,
The whistle of a kettle,
Receding further...

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Wish you well, Pikamee.

Yes, I know..... this story idea has been beaten to death with a stick so much... yet nothing is quite as "brony" as a HiE story. Now I'm thinking of doing something a bit different if I can help it though I will definitely draw inspiration from "What a strange little colt" and "trust once lost".

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Good morrow, fillies and gentlecolts!
Callum here!

I'm going to make this a quick blog, so here goes.
My partner and I have been working our socks off towards a Spouse Visa so we can live together in the UK; this has taken up the majority of my time, so The Titans' Orb has been on the backburner.
We're still sorting out the visa process, which requires jumping through many hoops, and spending a little over £4,000!
Ouch.

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Today we continue the Throne Chronicles. With so many seats met before, how will this one hold for the changeling ambassador? Will they rise above, or be flushed down the drain.
Check out the story below.

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There is this phenomenon, where what an artist puts the least amount of time and effort in, compared to the rest of their works, will be what gathered the most attention. If it received 20% of the work, it receives 80% of the attention. Some say it is close enough to be likened to mere confirmation bias, you see the times an artist has a catalogue of work they are proud with - less so the further back you go - but what got them where they are is in comparison, small, inconsistent, reductive...

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Sometimes I wish it wasn't time again. And the fact I do tells me a lot about myself, there is still a lot to learn, a lot to accept, a lot to make peace with. If I ever wake up, and wish I had but one more day, then eventually there will be no days left. So one day, I will wake up, and feel... content? Perhaps. Or perhaps when all preparations are fulfilled, there will just be emptiness.

Happy Birthday to me~.

I would like to be a worm. A carefree existence, where I eat as much dirt as my stomach can hold, and unload it all the same.
Where I remain hidden from view under a cool, safe rock.
Where if I were split in twain, I would have a new friend to nurture together.

The more I think of it, the more my life resembles that of a worm already.
We even bleed the same.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

It is a funny thing, because I haven't thought about it much. That thing which many crave, to which so much prose is drafted, to which so many tunes are sung. Perhaps it has been easier to not think about it. Perhaps it is something I desire, despite the fact I have not sought it. There is a nagging sensation in my mind, asking me if I can truly be satisfied without it. The answer has always been foregone for me. But, perhaps it is just foreign to me. Unlike so many others, who claim: we're no

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Where do I go when my path weighs even across both sides? I always think I can observe it closer, deeper and deeper, on the scale of worth and value, there should be a dent that puts one side over the edge. And if not, I scrutinize closer. And if it is still even, I go deeper. The more I observe, the more my surroundings alter and adapt to the lens of my vision.
however, if the scale remains even through the most minute of observations, then I will tip it myself.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

We rise, we fall, a curve in every step.
We rise, once more, each fall another prep.
We fall, so often, and yet each day we move.
We fall, we rise, to persevere through doom.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

When one is bent,
to feel content,
you might resent,
to pay your rent.

"What good's it for?",
"They need no more".
Then they appear,
at your front door.

Happy Filthy Friday~.