“Ink of the Wilderness”
Beneath the ancient canopy, where shadows weave, I find my eyes deceive me and I feel weak, weathered and empty and I can't help myself in knowing my eyes hold tales of untold stories and the forest whispers to me, leave it go and if I could help you write my pain story I feel as well as i am sitting with you alone, ink flowing through the creek and filling our tears with the same sand filled tears.
You can stand out by being who you are authentically without knowing it.
🎵 Song: “Ink and Melody” 🎵
Beneath the moon’s silver gaze,
she sits alone,
Her cabin a cocoon of memories,
ink-stained and worn.
The guitar rests against her weathered chair,
Its strings humming secrets,
melodies in the air.
Her voice, like autumn leaves,
rustles and weaves,
A haunting rasp that echoes through the pines.
She strums chords of longing, love, and desire,
Each note a chapter, a battle fought, a soul set on fire.
Oh, the jaded wise woman,
ink on her fingertips,
She writes her life story,
raw and unfiltered.
Her heart spills onto paper,
ink flowing free,
As if nobody has ever heard such a tale before.
The creek outside babbles its approval,
A witness to her battles, her victories, her scars.
She sings of lost love, of nights under star-studded skies,
Her voice intertwining with the wind’s ancient cries.
The cabin walls lean in, cradle her vulnerability,
Their knots and grooves absorbing her pain.
And the moon, oh, the moon—weaves silver threads,
Binding her ink to the wilderness, to eternity.
Oh, the jaded wise woman,
ink on her fingertips,
She writes her life story, raw and unfiltered.
Her heart spills onto paper, ink flowing free,
As if nobody has ever heard such a tale before.
The fire crackles, casting shadows on the floor,
Her guitar strings vibrate, resonating with her truth.
She strums louder, as if urging the forest to listen,
To hear the battles she’s fought, the love she’s lost.
Oh, the jaded wise woman,
ink on her fingertips,
She writes her life story, raw and unfiltered.
Her heart spills onto paper, ink flowing free,
As if nobody has ever heard such a tale before.
And when the last page turns,
when her inkwell runs dry,
She’ll step into the moonlight,
her voice carried by the wind.
For the jaded wise woman, her story is a symphony,
A melody that sets her heart free, forevermore. 🎶
A Piece of Nature might be the missing peace.
The love that I have had
Will forever remind me to be brave
The sadness, tears and sorrows I have bared
Are moments forever etched in ways I cannot convey
Its time to fly and be free like the winds
Nature is calling me and the rain washed away my fears
The strength I have to stand and fight for what I believe in
Calms my heart and keeps it in a space of stillness
Adventures await along roads not yet explored
Joy fills my soul with bright light with the words flowing by my fingertips
Believing in the future dreams that await
Freedom, peace, laughter and now forever in the moment
People aren’t limited to anything in life. Our limits are what we put on ourselves. People who create with art, create a world in which everyone is invited to join in and enjoy what they love to create for years to come. Life is like artwork. You are the painter and you are the artist in your own life, who paints the picture, you wish everyone to see.
© 2024 Minds World Artworks. All rights reserved.
Song: “The Jaded Wise Woman” 🎵
In the heart of the wild, where the pines stand tall, A jaded wise woman resides, her spirit unyielding. Her cabin, weathered and worn, echoes with secrets, As she writes her life story, ink flowing like a river.
Her eyes, ancient and knowing, hold tales untold, The forest whispers to her, its leaves a parchment. She weaves her memories into verses, raw and real, A symphony of resilience, pain, and the wild’s embrace.
Oh, the jaded wise woman, her guitar by the fire, Strumming chords of longing, lost love, and desire. Her voice rasps like the wind, a haunting melody, As she sings of battles fought and hearts set free.
The moon spills silver secrets through her window, Each night, she reads her past, etched in moonlight. Her lovers, like constellations, blaze across her skin, Their kisses imprinted on her soul, never forgotten.
She dances barefoot on the cabin’s creaky floor, Her hips swaying to memories of forbidden kisses. The ink stains her fingertips, maps of her journey, And the forest listens, its ancient roots absorbing her truth.
Oh, the jaded wise woman, her guitar by the fire, Strumming chords of longing, lost love, and desire. Her voice rasps like the wind, a haunting melody, As she sings of battles fought and hearts set free.
The fireplace crackles, casting shadows on the walls, Her life unfolds before her, chapters interwoven. She’s danced with wolves, tasted moonshine and sorrow, Yet her eyes hold a fierce light—the fire of survival.
Oh, the jaded wise woman, her guitar by the fire, Strumming chords of longing, lost love, and desire. Her voice rasps like the wind, a haunting melody, as she sings of battles fought and hearts set free.
And when the final page turns, her inkwell empty, she’ll step into the moonlight, her story complete. The jaded wise woman, a legend in the whispering woods, her song echoing through time, forever understood. 🎶
I am in my heart in the wilderness, where the jaded leaves and the trees canopy over my thoughts and emotions bringing me a sense of peace. I am the jaded wise woman, worn and weathered, echoes of shadows with hidden weathered cabin becoming a space I can sit and write my life story, ink flowing like the creek at the bottom of the ravine. My words paint a vivid picture of your inner wilderness—the leaves whispering secrets, the trees as guardians, and the hidden cabin cradling your memories.
Certainly, all of us are going through something in our lives, here’s a heartfelt song about a lost little girl who discovers her true existence through the strength of herself, throughout her life.
Title: “Fragments of Resilience”
In the shadows of forgotten dreams,
Oh, fragile soul, stitched with courage,
You're more than the sum of your wreckage.
Teenage whispers weave a tapestry,
Revealing the truth of your destiny.
In moonlit nights, she seeks her truth,
The teenage self-whispers, "You're proof
That brokenness can birth resilience,
And scars can be our greatest brilliance."
Oh, fragile soul, stitched with courage,
You're more than the sum of your wreckage.
Teenage whispers weave a tapestry,
Revealing the truth of your destiny.
And so she dances, a symphony of grace,
The lost little girl finding her place.
Her teenage self, a beacon of light,
Guiding her toward the unforgiving night.
A lost little girl, torn at the seams.
Her heart a mosaic of fractured light,
Held together by threads of teenage might.
She wanders through a world unkind,
Where forgiveness is scarce, and hope confined.
Her innocence shattered, but not her will,
For within her, resilience blooms still.
Oh, fragile soul, stitched with courage,
You're more than the sum of your wreckage.
Teenage whispers weave a tapestry,
Revealing the truth of your destiny.
She dances on shards of broken glass,
Each step a defiance against the past.
Her laughter echoes through the pain,
As teenage scars become her refrain.
She gathers fragments of memories,
A kaleidoscope of life's mysteries.
Her teenage self, fierce and wild,
Guides her toward the light, reconciled.
