http://slow.writerscafe.org/LukeSmiith The original writings of author Luke Cazalet-Smith en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776002097 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 "..For she; she were my Lighthouse. The singular beacon of pure promise that drowned all depths of despair from the hearts of mere mortals. Making sight of sinister shards that perforate the surface, as if they were that of searing steel upon silken skin. To which I, were nothing more than a cre.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1536332/ A perpetual period of poetic poverty prepossessingly persisted upon the impressions within one's pneuma.A pen to paper may only prevail as permanence when perceived to be pristine within the perspective of such a Perfection.Possible, arguably, yet far from probable.And my psyche promenad.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1502789/ For a Brother, a Friend, to whom departed this world on a glorious adventure; to touch the face of God. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1483496/ The aperture in my confinement. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1478816/ I relish every fragmentation of affliction I have ever inflicted.I savour all the disfigurements inspired by my mere impression.Why?Because Evil does not simply exist on this formidable planet; She thrives. And I have the privilege to be an Agent of such a Beauty. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1473327/ I attempted to etch the eternal emptiness that eludes the fragments of a fractured heart, but my attention soon became adrift. I sailed upon a stream,onto a Sea of pure Serenity. And it was there where I were welcomed,by the grace of such an epiphany:Redundant is the resilience,tha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1470059/ I awoke in the morn with a mind infused with whims of a hopeful and joyous season, as the Winter revolved a new. But all that survived, the Sun's arise, was the shadow of a forgotten love, and the fragments of a fractured heart. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1463999/ The tale of Life and Death is not that of maliciousness. Of a possessive jealousy between antithesises. It is far, far too prepossessing to be of such travesty. Death does not venomously purloin from Life, as if there were a bitter feud betwixt the two. No. It is Life, that is hopelessly, and irretr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1461768/ And it could not have been more true. His fundamental fallacy, his paramount imperfection, was that he had ever allowed himself to love. What exacerbated the situation?She had loved him back. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1460358/ Never before had I encountered a being of such flawlessness. For she drifted elegantly through fields ripe with the colour of forgotten love. Cascading them with an infusion of compassion and grace.Oh, how her hair flowed. As if every, significant strand was forged from the purest of rivers, roo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1459895/ I transgressed. I shattered hearts, and sliced skin with the shrapnel. I wreaked havoc upon souls, and tortured their consciousness with glimmers of false hope infused with a glisten of hollow love. I poisoned their purity.I poisoned their purity with her name as my accolade. And her name,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1459044/ There are fragments of unspoilt beauty scattered across this vast, pitiless universe. Minuscule, unadulterated shards that attest the epitome of allurement. Deceitfully, mortal-eyes were not fabricated to observe such phenomenon. Yet, I am but one. A solitary. Privileged to bare witness to t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1457944/ It were only after I had gazed upon such a flawlessness, that I were overcome with the true essence of divinity, serenaded with love and beauty.And it hurt. Unbearably so.For it were in that precise fragmentation that I finally understood what it entailed to truly be unloved. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1457942/ For she were like rainfall in the equidistant of November.Inevitable. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1457941/ For she were like flame, and I a block of ice.Where I tediously melted,she unhurriedly drowned. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1457937/ I looked, and I saw Beauty. I saw the birth of a Star. She shone radiance. She emitted elegance. Yet, she was sad. For when she looked, she saw destruction. Which poisoned her soul with despair. She had become overwhelmed with a sense of devastation. This dampened her. For she no longer shone with t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1457936/ Another night hath passed me by, And still I hold this pen. Just to record the insignificant seconds,That I can't bring myself to forget.For soon this pen will turn to steel,In a pathetic attempt to make me feel,Something I lost years ago.Edging myself into a further state of depressio.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1457934/ I envy the Sun that kisses her skin with a merciful glow of love and warmth. I envy the Moon that elegantly gazes over her as she lay her weary head.I envy the Stars that wallow in her wishes and dreams as she wonders upon pastures anew. I envy the man that holds her heart for that man n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1457931/ Her beauty was not bound to mere superficialness. Her beauty radiated throughout her entire being. Every aspect, every essence, captivated love and elegance. Her eyes glistened comeliness. Her smile emitted allurement. If beauty were ever to be personified, she were it. For she were like fire infuse.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1457929/ When I regretfully gazed upon the isolated icicles, eluding themselves from a state of serenity, I deemed it impossible and perhaps inconceivable to conjure a concept of more tragedy and sorrow. For there not a more suited representation of the heart I had once laid before her, sealed within the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1457928/ The books on this hotel's shelf lay dormant. Their spines comforted by the thick layer of soot, eluded from fragmented memories that refused to flee. But when resuscitated, they only expire dust. Their skin covers crack with negligence. Their words flutter from the empty pages as if they wer.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/LukeSmiith/1457923/