Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Fishing for Stars || a Prayer for Tomorrow ❯ [Chapter Zero || Prayers of the Three Gates] ( One-Shot )
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: lemmonpepper 
Yeaahhh.... I usually only do one shots... Here's my recent work.
Anime/Manga: Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Mystery / Drama | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 07.11.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 464 | Status: Completed
Yeaahhh.... I usually only do one shots... Here's my recent work.
Anime/Manga: Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Mystery / Drama | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 07.11.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 464 | Status: Completed
Fishing for Stars || a Prayer for Tomorrow
Cat Dream Productions
Eri Kiuchi Orhia
[Chapter zero: Prayer one || The Ocean Diamond]
In another's eyes, if only you could see.
As if only
the dynamics of superstition in your mind filled
with equilibrium,
only to be asymmetric with the thought of my
unrequited love.
[---------------]
Watch where you're going.
Don't be stuck up in that morning gold, your prideful affair with life as you are now. While you were dreaming I walked off before the High Council, speaking my silent prayer to only the echoes that told that old tale; far off once upon a time when I could look at you through the distant night that sheltered you from the strangely affixed equanimity.
Hanging on a prey, only the bad omen that told you you'd fall twice; once to fall all the way down, the very pit of sanity. The second to look down below that. Leading me home as I'm stepping into the light, each of my steps missing a beat; your soul is in line for termination.
Just an image in your head; nothing left to kill for. I'm flittering out of your mind with every blink that shuts out existence. From the book of wisdom you fish for the sun, only to find your coexistence with me is futile and has already met its bitter end. Your sunny side of life is standing still, yet the feverish passion to feel most alive eats away at your soul; ready to burst into the nerves and tingle with the feeling of my skin against yours.
[---------------]
”Who am I?”
”You're God.”
”Oh… And what am I supposed to do?”
”Cry.”
”Why is this?”
”Because the mortals destroyed that of which you spent seven days and seven nights on.”
”Can't I just fix it?”
”No. You're dead.”
[Chapter zero: Prayer two || a Portrait of She]
The meeting point
of which you seek is somewhere
out of the woods.
Your life support is waiting for
the tide on the vast anhydrous
ardency.
[---------------]
The shapes of your solitude are roughly misplaced and scattered throughout the line of your mind that is so tangled. What is present, but not physically reachable or solid? The golden gates to the sky, shimmering through only to your view after that indefinitely long period; only to seem a lifetime, a time immemorial. My month of Sundays.
In one of these days, under the dome of my imagination, could you be released to set sail among my growing imagination, it's limitation at infinity. Your happiness was my exchanging of words. The general electricity only suffocating the two burning matches that we both held in our chest.
Our minds were not to be the chimerical deception as a customary placement of thoughts, but as the prevalent ways were let out unto the very way we were in description, the imaginary world let loose to prevail on the real world. Heading into the storm each waking moment, our small secrets we lest tell each one another was certainly and most defiantly not well balanced, and the world harmony that clearly stood formerly in our controversial views was now to be cast into the least of the best intentions.
[---------------]
”Can you remember?”
”Remember what?”
”Everything worth recalling.”
”What is there to do so?”
”That smile. Did you look?”
”Does it matter?”
[Chapter zero: Prayer three || Reality Show]
Find your place under the sun,
let its
luminosity
give the rain a perspective
to your view. Can you imagine no possessions.
I can only wonder if to you it is
possible.
[---------------]
ME. Riding high in the house of the broken sun. It is only an aqua state reality; for sure the shores of oblivion would not welcome me as night cracks and the steel cold of the memory, your sharp tone just like slicing through with the procession of the gods. Something's fishy with this stony weather, but I know you can do it alone. Between the walls is a passing thought that doesn't reach you, your shady running passing shadows on the beach of death; the souls you release only stay for so long.
Living between the cracks, between the sky and earth, your shattered memory chip brings enlightenment to one person; that of which is neither of us. I can't stop dreaming that the stranger between us would cease watching me watching you. The heavy load of your black and white portrait doesn't write me anymore. That person shatters the sun and calls a hymn for a new beginning; one that only gives a hand to the warriors that fight with rage in your heart that dreams of colors.
When water turns to blood, the model life that through and beyond seeks a distant faith, when only to find it's a child's philosophy. The road to your peace; its silent sonnet casts you lonely eyes and strange days. In the times, in the book of wisdom whose streets now have no names, you peek at the sun only to find that my sands of life clench a fist and smile. The little treasures from your bygone days are overdue, and in your forest contemplation you find that your visit to the dying sun makes you strong, but desolate. The unknown prophets live inside a world of hate and defy the dynamics of superstition. Your skeleton closet shows an empty childhood, but your journey to the sun will one day give your red faith chance, leading you through the world in your heart; by the choices you make through the generations of seconds will prevail through the scars of humanity, and possibly you shall surpass the silent grounds.
For you, I'll take the rain.
After all this time, I shall only help you follow the light.
It's a long way home in the eye of the storm, and the in between days are still standing, but even with thirty seconds of truth, for you will tomorrow still be another morning? But still. Your exceptional thoughts keep you waiting for the sun. Hello, but.
Open your eyes. I'm outside your window.
You're soul searching for a life after death, and the pieces of your life are still on a journey.
The things I've seen; here in my abandon garden.
Freeze that smile in your passing thoughts, and by the end of the day, perhaps I won't be just another face in a crowd. The person of the sun is a true companion, for thy is not the creator of the shadow world; growing old and longing is only a human touch.
My artificial energy is not a life to leave, my foundation may be an introspection to change, but not a reflection of innocence. Your prayer for survival is only to be heard by who detest leaving you. A spectator of the sun, you may be, but to the sun you shall be my moon.
You speak of dogma infinity, but what ever the cause, don't look back upon your choices, go forward and save your combat DNA for the future.
[---------------]
”Say a prayer for me, and have me to feel the strength I did.”
[Chapter zero: Amen ]
Cat Dream Productions
Eri Kiuchi Orhia
[Chapter zero: Prayer one || The Ocean Diamond]
In another's eyes, if only you could see.
As if only
the dynamics of superstition in your mind filled
with equilibrium,
only to be asymmetric with the thought of my
unrequited love.
[---------------]
Watch where you're going.
Don't be stuck up in that morning gold, your prideful affair with life as you are now. While you were dreaming I walked off before the High Council, speaking my silent prayer to only the echoes that told that old tale; far off once upon a time when I could look at you through the distant night that sheltered you from the strangely affixed equanimity.
Hanging on a prey, only the bad omen that told you you'd fall twice; once to fall all the way down, the very pit of sanity. The second to look down below that. Leading me home as I'm stepping into the light, each of my steps missing a beat; your soul is in line for termination.
Just an image in your head; nothing left to kill for. I'm flittering out of your mind with every blink that shuts out existence. From the book of wisdom you fish for the sun, only to find your coexistence with me is futile and has already met its bitter end. Your sunny side of life is standing still, yet the feverish passion to feel most alive eats away at your soul; ready to burst into the nerves and tingle with the feeling of my skin against yours.
[---------------]
”Who am I?”
”You're God.”
”Oh… And what am I supposed to do?”
”Cry.”
”Why is this?”
”Because the mortals destroyed that of which you spent seven days and seven nights on.”
”Can't I just fix it?”
”No. You're dead.”
[Chapter zero: Prayer two || a Portrait of She]
The meeting point
of which you seek is somewhere
out of the woods.
Your life support is waiting for
the tide on the vast anhydrous
ardency.
[---------------]
The shapes of your solitude are roughly misplaced and scattered throughout the line of your mind that is so tangled. What is present, but not physically reachable or solid? The golden gates to the sky, shimmering through only to your view after that indefinitely long period; only to seem a lifetime, a time immemorial. My month of Sundays.
In one of these days, under the dome of my imagination, could you be released to set sail among my growing imagination, it's limitation at infinity. Your happiness was my exchanging of words. The general electricity only suffocating the two burning matches that we both held in our chest.
Our minds were not to be the chimerical deception as a customary placement of thoughts, but as the prevalent ways were let out unto the very way we were in description, the imaginary world let loose to prevail on the real world. Heading into the storm each waking moment, our small secrets we lest tell each one another was certainly and most defiantly not well balanced, and the world harmony that clearly stood formerly in our controversial views was now to be cast into the least of the best intentions.
[---------------]
”Can you remember?”
”Remember what?”
”Everything worth recalling.”
”What is there to do so?”
”That smile. Did you look?”
”Does it matter?”
[Chapter zero: Prayer three || Reality Show]
Find your place under the sun,
let its
luminosity
give the rain a perspective
to your view. Can you imagine no possessions.
I can only wonder if to you it is
possible.
[---------------]
ME. Riding high in the house of the broken sun. It is only an aqua state reality; for sure the shores of oblivion would not welcome me as night cracks and the steel cold of the memory, your sharp tone just like slicing through with the procession of the gods. Something's fishy with this stony weather, but I know you can do it alone. Between the walls is a passing thought that doesn't reach you, your shady running passing shadows on the beach of death; the souls you release only stay for so long.
Living between the cracks, between the sky and earth, your shattered memory chip brings enlightenment to one person; that of which is neither of us. I can't stop dreaming that the stranger between us would cease watching me watching you. The heavy load of your black and white portrait doesn't write me anymore. That person shatters the sun and calls a hymn for a new beginning; one that only gives a hand to the warriors that fight with rage in your heart that dreams of colors.
When water turns to blood, the model life that through and beyond seeks a distant faith, when only to find it's a child's philosophy. The road to your peace; its silent sonnet casts you lonely eyes and strange days. In the times, in the book of wisdom whose streets now have no names, you peek at the sun only to find that my sands of life clench a fist and smile. The little treasures from your bygone days are overdue, and in your forest contemplation you find that your visit to the dying sun makes you strong, but desolate. The unknown prophets live inside a world of hate and defy the dynamics of superstition. Your skeleton closet shows an empty childhood, but your journey to the sun will one day give your red faith chance, leading you through the world in your heart; by the choices you make through the generations of seconds will prevail through the scars of humanity, and possibly you shall surpass the silent grounds.
For you, I'll take the rain.
After all this time, I shall only help you follow the light.
It's a long way home in the eye of the storm, and the in between days are still standing, but even with thirty seconds of truth, for you will tomorrow still be another morning? But still. Your exceptional thoughts keep you waiting for the sun. Hello, but.
Open your eyes. I'm outside your window.
You're soul searching for a life after death, and the pieces of your life are still on a journey.
The things I've seen; here in my abandon garden.
Freeze that smile in your passing thoughts, and by the end of the day, perhaps I won't be just another face in a crowd. The person of the sun is a true companion, for thy is not the creator of the shadow world; growing old and longing is only a human touch.
My artificial energy is not a life to leave, my foundation may be an introspection to change, but not a reflection of innocence. Your prayer for survival is only to be heard by who detest leaving you. A spectator of the sun, you may be, but to the sun you shall be my moon.
You speak of dogma infinity, but what ever the cause, don't look back upon your choices, go forward and save your combat DNA for the future.
[---------------]
”Say a prayer for me, and have me to feel the strength I did.”
[Chapter zero: Amen ]