Pure-zen

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryPoliticians do you listen? Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryThe purpose of mankind? Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryTake in the forms of nature Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryThe hour glass Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryThe secret's in the packing Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryRupert Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryThe New Year Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryPast lives Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryIs your muse heading home? Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryIs there colour in the darkness? Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryGremlins Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryIt's the handle on your door Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryI have a little secret Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryIs there a point? Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryFrustration Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryFloating cars across the Midlands Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryDeep rivers of discomfort Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryFools and love Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryEternity Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
StoryFine line Pure-zen013 years 1 month ago
Forum topicspam alert hudsonmoon2314 years 7 months ago
StoryAffinity Andrew G Bailey318 years 4 months ago
Forum topicCherry Picks Noticeboard2919 years 4 months ago
Forum topicInspiration Point tcook619 years 5 months ago
Forum topicpure zen ivoryfishbone619 years 5 months ago

My stories

Transition 3

Everything has place and purpose, its the balance that’s awry. Its in relationship to spirit that man will finally rely.

Transition 2

I do not need a blank canvas, that purchase gives me none. But I do need your attention and some words that you’ve begun.

Transition - Ruperts intro

From the viewpoint of spirit, your path’s a web and not a line. The threads that join together breach infinity and time.

There’s still water in the well

The old prophets have a story, that they still wish to tell. Death doesn’t broker silence, there’s still water in the well.

When looking in the mirror

You’re tumbling and you’re falling through rivulets of rhyme, You see the world in couplets, rhythm beating out each line.

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