@ballercollective
Glevil, with an unwavering gaze, peers into the souls of those in his midst. Return its stare, and you'll sense the haunting trifecta of despair, dread, and the inexorable specters of horror and death. I solemnly swear, it is not solely their eyes fixed upon me; it is as though they serve as a foreboding messenger, a sentinel with unseen shadows trailing behind him. Glevil has the face of God.
In the quiet corner of the garden,
Lies a forgotten cinder block,
Neglected by the passing seasons,
Cracked and weathered by the clock.
Its rough surface tells a story,
Of a time long since past,
When it stood tall and mighty,
A foundation built to last.
But now it sits in silence,
A relic of days gone by,
A symbol of strength and resilience,
Underneath the clear blue sky.
The sun beats down upon it,
Casting shadows long and deep,
As the wind whispers softly through the trees,
Lulling it into a sleepy, dreamy sleep.
And though its edges are worn,
And its corners chipped and frayed,
There is a beauty in its imperfection,
A story in every crack displayed.
For each mark tells a tale,
Of the weight it once bore,
Of the storms it weathered bravely,
Of the harshness it endured.
But despite the wear and tear,
The cinder block stands strong,
A testament to resilience,
A melody of hope in a world gone wrong.
In its sturdy form, there is a lesson,
A reminder to stand tall and true,
To weather life's storms with grace,
And emerge stronger, like the cinder block, too.
So let us take a moment,
To honor this humble piece of stone,
To appreciate its silent strength,
And the beauty it has shown.
For in the quiet corner of the garden,
Lies a forgotten cinder block,
A symbol of endurance and grace,
A reminder of the resilience in all of us.
Ballery
