People are made up of many fragments.
Delicate but precise
Each has a different shape, a different colour and a different meaning.
Each one contains a realm of feelings.
These fragments are built through the rivers of time.
Through the experiences of our human life.
Significant
Or not.
They are Built inside our sunny smiles,
to the depths and the cracks of an empty abyss.
Those are the times when we want to just curl up and vanish
from all eyes.
Hide me from it all.

Humans
We feel stuff
Its the gift that contains a curse
A gift that is given whether you want it or not.
It holds you
To see what it wants you to see
It crawls inside you
Aware or not
And makes you feel

It can be a torturous trap.
It can be fertile freedom.

The sun soaks your skin
Smiles creep to your lips
Eyes glint as you laugh with them
Your chest rises beyond the sky
as happiness flow within your veins
A fragment that is you

We are all of our fragments pieced together to fit a puzzle that is you.
We feel Love, Heartbreak, regret, happiness the list continues.
Their are those times when your world twists and swirls to a point where you feel your insides go against it. Because it does bad. Sometimes very bad.
You are a creature that has this gift and it gives you the best times of your life, from the big to the little and unnoticed. If you cant see a

NCEA 2.4 Writing Portfolio Option 2: Being There

There they stand. Tall and proud overlooking all that happens in their young growing world, unorganized by the human mind. The dwindling winter sun weakly struggles on its daily journey, delivering all its the sun-soaked light to the vast valleys that live hidden by the old protectors. They are worn and carved with collections of scars from the unforgiving, ruthless elements. But their knees are unbuckled; courage unbroken as they stand with linked arms, enduring. They rise and reach stabbing through the patchy carpet of cotton that effortless float around their peaks.
They are the mighty mountains.
Their earthy bases are dressed in the tangled bush where short rivers of ominous fog loom around their edges. For they stand as the stadium of what you are about to see. They are the shields from the wind, Dams that hold the ocean and the walls that prevent us humans from our reconstructing nature. 

It is peaceful.

Listen to it. A delicate breeze lightly tickles the trees as collectively their tops sway inhaling and exhaling. Distant crickets are the choir of clicks, contributing to the making of a distant song, while dampened rounded stones clink beneath each footstep. This is the harmony of nature.
We stand surrounded by a moss ridden community, where the trees sag under the weight of a thousand droplets. Impassable undergrowth, so fiercely thick, that the ground remains obscured as you inhale the soggy air. Golden tussocks soak in the rare sunshine while beads of dew giving them sparkles.

Wind pushes the frosty air into our faces as the sight of cold slate fills the view. Not a drop breaks its surface. Two tree packed islands rest in the middle, both evident of hacks and cracks. Both conceal there little paradise from our greedy eyes. Steep hills that haven’t yet grown into mountains are the cup that contains this scene. They are Cloaked from shore to summit and the lake mirrors this perfectly.

How could we forget? The cut in the middle of this picture, where the hills slowly separate barely touching at the bottom. Its a rigid parabola that frame the distant mountains we see ahead. Big brothers of the hills rise to much greater heights, past where the trees surrender to the barren rock. Your eyes trace the mountains sharp edges to the pinnacles laden with icing sugar. Up above are white streaks in the rich blue sky.

BOOM!
The distant rumbling of an avalanche, echos with strength as vibrations rattle landscape.
Bird’s wings fluctuate adding to the cacophony of the decending snow as dissipates into the distance
Silence.
Quietly whispering, the delicate breeze sighs as if relieved.
Black streaks varying in width with a fresh pile of shattered rocks take their first breath. This is a not act destruction but rather nature resculpting the land. From vibrant birds that sing in the canopy of trees, to the Weka that scavenges and scuffle in the dirt in search for nourishment. Or the seemingly silent fish and eels that slither and slip between the stringy underwater forest in the lightless depths.
But what about the uninvited guests, rats and stoats. Scrambling and charging.
Climbing and leaping.
In and out of their dirty dens.
On their relentless chase in the for their next victim.
They kill.
Sounds of scuffling and clawing.
Cries from their victims are silent.
But they didn’t bring themselves here.

There the mountains stand. They stand side by side pointing their snowy daggers to the sky as a sign of respect. In places these humble noble warriors bunch together shouldering one another, in others, they scatter. Many secrets are hidden within the mountains protected in layers of time. Enduring the many battles they have faced and the vigorous wars that prolongs. Marked and scarred.
Worn but not torn, they hold strong.
And they will hold to the very end.

Short Descriptions

Classroom
Tables and seats. People and machine. The tapping of keyboards releases a fluttering echo. The timeless clock makes the second’s drag pass as tangled thoughts wander inside the minds of the unnoticed. Warmth seeps into your skin as the chill(?) enviously waits.

Entering school
The wind speaks as you walk.
The clouds cover as you watch.
The cold feeds as we wander
our separate ways.