Forwarded from Wishcrest. #BornToByteRiku
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤㅤ☻ ⁺ Sunlight doesn't just fall, it leapt
ㅤㅤonto the hill, practically sang the red
ㅤㅤtulips awake.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ #Catch23rdWithSion
ㅤㅤㅤㅤThey stretched open, and the air
ㅤㅤremembered how heavy it used to be.
ㅤㅤ“Wasn't it the kind of day you felt down
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤright in your bones?” ✱
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤㅤ☻ ⁺ Sunlight doesn't just fall, it leapt
ㅤㅤonto the hill, practically sang the red
ㅤㅤtulips awake.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ #Catch23rdWithSion
ㅤㅤㅤㅤThey stretched open, and the air
ㅤㅤremembered how heavy it used to be.
ㅤㅤ“Wasn't it the kind of day you felt down
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤright in your bones?” ✱
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
Forwarded from Wishcrest. #BornToByteRiku
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
Years bled into soil of the hill, bruises blooming into some fragile, fleeting bit of color on the land's hide. Had the sky ever been this breathtaking? A blue so clean it felt scrubbed by angels. Lived within the stone sigh of the farmhouse, wind's low murmur through the grass, a language older than any tongue, ‘⅋─ sun's lazy gold tickled every green blades; weeping down emerald slopes also cows' backs like a second skin.
It doesn't etched in brittle headlines or shouted from gilded stages. But, instead, only a quiet wins of getting by: the old barn still standing against the storm's hungry teeth, earthy scent of the newly woken soil, even those calm, chewing clouds, seemed to perk up. It's a story that deliberately unfurling, like relentless tendrils of ivy gripping those ancient stone walls, refusing to let go. Every sunrise we could count painted its faces with the same lasting light that kissed the dew-laden fields, to life lived in rhythm with land's deep pulse and ever-present green. And those red tulips, year after year, weren't just red; they were fireworks on stems, bloomed a tiny, triumphant flag waving in the sheer bliss of it all with calloused strength in hands, bathed in its longed-for brilliance.
ㅤㅤ ☆ Fire beacon's beam a lightly winks,
ㅤㅤcasts gold light upon the triumphant's
ㅤㅤink: PNG. ▸
ㅤㅤ᪤ Veil antique lamps, gun-cotton cracks,
ㅤㅤpale wreaths of damp through sheets
ㅤㅤof morning dew's sleet: ANIMATED. ▸
Along with this long-awaited bash of Oh Sion's birthday, the shadows suddenly scurried away like a startled mice. Letting the day explode in colors that wasn't just a bit of sunshine; a moment where the world shout, so enjoy the burst of it, through: @WishcrestBot. Gentle dawn and fractures drawn from the colors that pecking of the illustrator: @Decaaying. And a raw, gut-level recognition, like finally seeing a color you'd only ever heard described: @Tokkuno. Down the windmills, all giddy with built-up walls that filled with hopeful little buds.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
Years bled into soil of the hill, bruises blooming into some fragile, fleeting bit of color on the land's hide. Had the sky ever been this breathtaking? A blue so clean it felt scrubbed by angels. Lived within the stone sigh of the farmhouse, wind's low murmur through the grass, a language older than any tongue, ‘⅋─ sun's lazy gold tickled every green blades; weeping down emerald slopes also cows' backs like a second skin.
It doesn't etched in brittle headlines or shouted from gilded stages. But, instead, only a quiet wins of getting by: the old barn still standing against the storm's hungry teeth, earthy scent of the newly woken soil, even those calm, chewing clouds, seemed to perk up. It's a story that deliberately unfurling, like relentless tendrils of ivy gripping those ancient stone walls, refusing to let go. Every sunrise we could count painted its faces with the same lasting light that kissed the dew-laden fields, to life lived in rhythm with land's deep pulse and ever-present green. And those red tulips, year after year, weren't just red; they were fireworks on stems, bloomed a tiny, triumphant flag waving in the sheer bliss of it all with calloused strength in hands, bathed in its longed-for brilliance.
ㅤㅤ ☆ Fire beacon's beam a lightly winks,
ㅤㅤcasts gold light upon the triumphant's
ㅤㅤink: PNG. ▸
ㅤㅤ᪤ Veil antique lamps, gun-cotton cracks,
ㅤㅤpale wreaths of damp through sheets
ㅤㅤof morning dew's sleet: ANIMATED. ▸
Along with this long-awaited bash of Oh Sion's birthday, the shadows suddenly scurried away like a startled mice. Letting the day explode in colors that wasn't just a bit of sunshine; a moment where the world shout, so enjoy the burst of it, through: @WishcrestBot. Gentle dawn and fractures drawn from the colors that pecking of the illustrator: @Decaaying. And a raw, gut-level recognition, like finally seeing a color you'd only ever heard described: @Tokkuno. Down the windmills, all giddy with built-up walls that filled with hopeful little buds.
Also, a gentle shout-out for @SaintOfWish, @NcteWish, @TheWishbound, @Siontar, @Ribles, @HouseOfWong, @TheHowarth, @RuhmerAhl, @TheRushforth, @Hurlstone, @CampofLachers, @Altefiore, @TheDoucheron, @HerdOfDauvignon, and @EELJES to witness the barren landscape of its origins alongside the mildew winding path that collecting hope and sewn each of their fractured ribbons into this lifeblood familiality together. ᜊx
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ