Perhaps, perhaps. Though I can't help feeling that somehow there could be cheating, and I don't like that feeling. Though it is probably entirely incorrect. Sheesh, how do I match my old creative talent? I need to find a good subject, first... (Well, some of them... I liked the Rubik's Cube one, but I couldn't find it in the file) I am He who walks the bright scarlet roads, Pushing, shoving, carrying the loads. My fair-skinned brother Who devours all “others†Recognizes me as at home. Always moving, never resting, And not the same path every time, It is I who brings life, Through toil and strife, Can you solve my riddle in rhyme? ------------------------------------------------- Small I may be, But just wait and see. I’ll show you what I make, And it’s much more than me. Parts of a whole which are many in number, Yet powerful forces may rend us asunder. Dependent on currents with nature of lightning, Images depicted, may be fascinating or frightening. Tricking the eyes with the illusion of motion, I may not fly, But I can give you the notion. ----------------------------------------------------- Slammed into my home with a powerful blow, Into a place I did not wish to go, Governed by beings who heed not my pleas; They will do anything to satisfy their needs. Beaten and bent with no end in sight, And still they will not leave me be. Deeper and deeper I sink, Until I fit, like a lock and a key. ------------------------------------------------------ I am the Thing that everyone dreads, stalking, lurking around every dark bend. Tendrils of panic that can corrupt and paralyze, I am often perceived as a mere pair of eyes. Ripping one's sanity from its weak, clinging bonds, some people find me in deep, murky ponds. Often you'll see me in the dark of the night, where no one can help you escape from your plight. Many a brave man has sacrificed their life What am I? Hey, I found the Rubik's Cube one! Rainbow fields on a mechanical plane, Once it is used it is never the same. Bending most minds in twists and in spins, Passing the hours, floating one along on a feeble whim. Behold, however, the secret within, There is a way, a hidden path, with which one may win. Extract the secrets, ones of patterns, some with form, And soon will the clock be your fascinating norm.