Beautiful Chaos Poetry Novels & Stories

to learn or understand this you will have to go through the book of the beginning, How the celestial gods and goddess created our realm and the other realms were written there" she pause and touched a beautiful sunflower that is growing on the path in the woods with her staff and in an instant it wither away. the others grasp in fear. with a devious smile, the leader said. "Beautiful isn't it? I had the same look you all had on your faces when I discovered that every one of us was created with an iota of chaos, chaos saves and chaos can destroy. but as long as it is not fully exposed to our realm then it is safe, let's say I gave chaos a little push, she said coyly. "Who am I not to help cha

Like a flower that loses its beauty; so is the present that is happening to the whole country. Darkness forces beauty to mourn, darkening the happy atmosphere without being prevented. Gloom, that's all that's left. An eclipse comes between freezing snows. However, it actually lasted longer in retaliation for the delay. They said the darkness was created by a child. Dark and terrible poems about it began to surface. The girl fell like drops of rain from above the horror. She stood like a haughty tower in the distance. She limped in a gray cloud, like dawn breathing death.

Nothing. "Thunder." the word slipped from my grasp, falling in his lap for him to do with as he pleases. "I don't blame Eldora for being angry. Blood paints his blue word red. Chaos disturbs its rest. Sin distorts its beauty." I tell him, the words slip so quickly as I pull away and watch the spirit fish dance. "But when the sky splits open and unleashes its outrage, I-I…" I couldn't explain it. I couldn't find the words, even conjuring such an image spikes my heart with unease. I can almost hear its distant roar, my hands shakingly sitting atop my ear as if to block it out. "Torture. Pure, endless torture," my voice quivers. I honestly forget I'm speaking to him, that he's here with me at t

All suffering originates from craving, from attachment, from desire. —Edgar Allan poe DARIUS Some presences choke you like smoke, but hers,hers lit me on fire. And I hadn’t burned in years. “Again,” I yelled at the men sprinting across the field. Their strides had slowed, a clear contrast of the burst of energy they started with. I pushed them harder than usual, not out of discipline, but because I needed the noise to drown out the chaos in my chest.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim grey sands with light, Far off by furthest Rosses We foot it all the night, Weaving olden dances Mingling hands and mingling glances Till the moon has taken flight; To and fro we leap And chase the frothy bubbles, While the world is full of troubles And is anxious in its sleep. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand. Heinrich sighed, confused. "Why am I acting like I got broken up?" . . . -------------------- Poem Credit: W.B. Yeats

Before another word could be spoken, the air shifted. A cold wind brushed past our skin. And then Celeste’s voice rang out, soft and almost amused, from nowhere and everywhere all at once. “Oh, how beautifully broken you all are.” The shadows near the edge of the clearing bent and twisted, and from them rose an illusion of her, shimmering silver and black, her form translucent like fog. “Get out,” Darius barked. She ignored him. Her gaze was fixed on me. “You carry fire and blood and chaos. A child not meant for this world.”

Each day, each night, they grew more coherent. She saw fissures spiderwebbing across the world, bleeding not only darkness but resonance. She saw oceans roil in despair, leviathans screaming into trenches collapsing like cages. She saw roots shudder beneath the earth, trees snapping with the sound of bones breaking. She saw her moon fracture, mend, fracture again, silver shards drifting like dying embers into shadow. And though the chaos horrified her, she could no longer mistake it for senselessness. It was not chaos without meaning.

I can’t help but appreciate all the love I am getting from you all. Thank you so much, guys!!! Happiness is a beautiful thing Family is a wonderful gift And life can be so good, That all thoughts of evil Could evaporate. However, while this family Is celebrating Chaos and Catastrophe Lurk in the dark, Waiting. One thing does this teach us, We cannot be too sure Of what the next second could bring Life truly is unpredictable. -PenaciousShewa

My heart started to beat fast in my chest. How many times had she seen us at our worst? How much had we hurt her without even realizing it? Feeling overwhelmed, I turned to the next page and found a short poem scribbled in her neat handwriting. It was about stars, rivers, and memories. Reading her words, I felt a sense of peace and calm wash over me. It was as if Val was speaking to me through her poetry, reminding me of the beauty and wonder of life.

BEAT! I pour the last dregs of my will, my sanity, into that impossible image. Forcing the torrential chaos through the crucible of my scars, compressing it, shaping it with the only template I have: the defiant pulse of existence itself. The pressure inside me peaks. A silent detonation. The funneling chaos… snaps.