What Is Wisdom? A small boy drifted through a meadow, his shadow before him and the golden sunlight on his back, warming him and slowly transforming the tone of his pale, virgin flesh to the rich tan of childhood summers. His soft, bare feet treaded carefully among the tall grass and dirt and he wondered what magic the earth contains that makes all the plants grow. As he breathed the sweet, light air of the meadow, smelling of flowers and earthy tones, he wondered what powers lay in the sky that make the rain fall and let the sun shine. He wondered what makes the flowers flourish so brightly and he wondered what makes the bees buzz so loudly and clearly. His mind floated through the meadow, his bright blue eyes glimmering with its colors and wonders. He wondered how the birds’ feathers are so shiny and vibrant, and how they can fly so majestically like peacekeepers of the sky. He wondered how chipmunks know where to dig holes and what puts the reticulated patterns on their furry bodies. He wondered what force keeps all the living things in the meadow at peace. He wondered what magic happens that makes baby animals and baby humans. The boy knew nothing of science, nothing of chemistry, nothing of numbers or elements. He knew nothing of textbooks or classrooms, nothing of professors or scientists. He knew nothing of human attempts to answer the things of which he wondered. His view of the world was simple and pure, and he saw it for what it is. ---- (untitled) Troubled souls that wander the surface, searching for their lost true purpose, never to be found, amble on the dusty floor. Their minds are troubled and they don't see it, their thoughts are strangled, tangled, can't be completed, they long for happiness they can't define. They struggle through a cloud of smog and wonder where the light has gone but never look inside. Their lives go crooked and awry, never do they question why these things must be so. They have been blinded by endless lies branded into their innocent eyes that only seek the path of light where man's corruption dies. ---- Feel free to comment, but advice via constructive criticism will not be listened to I write to please myself and I don't care if other people don't like it. If you do like it go ahead and tell me though :3
Your first entry is good. Maybe you can develop a story line. Your second entry is a sort of prose poem. Throw in some line feeds and see if you can get meter and rhyme working for you. It deserves a title also.
