Congratulations! You have scored #12 in our Myth Taken POAP series! This means you have joined the most awesome posse of listeners and storytellers out there! Your support and participation inspires us to no end! Tell your friends and bring them along for the fun! This week we were inspired by the Shade Haven ghosts! And so is the poem! Enjoy! Wandering into Strange Places Step past the stones, where the pathways twist, Into a fog the moonlight kissed. The portal hums, the shadows call, Adventure waits beyond the wall. The ghosts of Shade Haven drift in parade, Whispering secrets, throwing shade. But their jest is kind, their mischief light, They guide you gently through the night. Each door you find may lead somewhere new... A carnival strange, or a sky turned blue, A library of whispers, a garden of flame, Worlds with no maps, yet each has a name. So wander on, let your courage sing, For who knows what the night may bring? Through portals of wonder, both far and near, Your imagination’s the key to get here.

Congratulations! You just minted Myth Taken POAP #11 for being such a great listener! We thank you for your continued support of community storytelling and the creative endeavors of our artists and writers that make our world a more enjoyable place to be! Please enjoy this little poem too! “Smile from the Graveyard” 🌙👻 Among the stones where shadows play, And whispers wander, night to day, Emile walks softly, glass aglow, Through moonlit paths the lost still know. A ghost drifts near with gentle cheer, Its smile a beacon drawing near. No sorrow lingers, no mournful sound, Just laughter humming underground. From earthen soil, two hands arise, Not grasping dark, but reaching skies. Even in graves where silence keeps, A grin breaks through, a joy that leaps. For death is not the end of light, Nor every grave a home of night. Sometimes the earth will laugh instead, A smile remembered from the dead.

Congratulations! You have minted Myth Taken POAP #10 Thank you so much for being an awesome listener! Let's keep the creative fire burning bright! Enjoy the poem! “The Phoenix Fire” On the tenth night, the circle glows, A story burns, and a fire grows. Emile sits still, his marshmallow bright, Fox curled close in the hush of night. Smile coins crackle, scrolls take flame, A broken heart whispers its secret name. Ash drifts upward, sparks take flight, Becoming a Phoenix, reborn in light. Its wings stretch wide, the fire sings, A promise of endings that turn into beginnings. For what we burn we do not lose... It changes shape, it learns to move. So gather close, bring tales to share, The fire is patient, the flames will care. Tonight we rise, in glow and song, The Phoenix reminds us... we’ve been burning all along.

Congratulations! You have just minted #9 in the Myth Taken POAP series for being such a great listener and supporter of our storytelling hour! You always give us a big smile when we see you show up and spend this magical time with us! Share a smile and this space with a friend as we grow our audience! Here is a little poem for you too! The Currency of Smiles A smile is more than curve and light, It bridges hearts, it mends the night. No coin or jewel could weigh the same, For joy and warmth are what it claims. We smile to greet, we smile to show, The gentlest truth our spirits know. A signal bright, both soft and true, That says, “I see the best in you.” Each grin a spark, a whispered thread, That ties the living to the dead. We keep them close, like cherished gold, A treasure more than hands can hold. In photographs, our smiles remain, A timeless echo, free from pain. A memory etched, a soul’s release... A simple curve that whispers peace. So trade in laughter, share it wide, This currency will never hide. For when we smile, we’re not apart... It’s joy exchanged from heart to heart.

Congratulations! You just collected Myth Taken POAP#8! Thank you for being such a great listener to our storytelling hour! And hopefully, you are inspired to become a storyteller in our future spaces! Spread the word that creativity and imagination is here to stay! Stay GOLDEN just like Emile! Here is a short poem for you to enjoy! “The Doors of Gold” They say there are only twenty-four Gold Emiles in all the realms. And each one is a key to a single door... a door that will open for you once in your lifetime. No two doors lead to the same place. Some open into gardens under eternal starlight, where flowers breathe and time forgets to move. Some open into libraries of impossible books, their pages written in ink you’ve only seen in dreams. Some open into moments you thought were lost forever... a touch, a laugh, a memory come back to life. But here’s the thing about doors: they can change you. Some close behind you forever, sealing what was, asking you to walk on. Others stay ajar, their hinges patient, inviting you back when your heart is ready. And somewhere, even now, a Golden Emile stands, keys spinning in his hand like stars, choosing which lock to turn, which world to awaken.

Congratulations! You have collected the #6 Myth Taken POAP! Thank you for being a great listener and showing up! The RugDollz & Doruzu Collections were the inspiration for this weeks storytelling session. And of course a poem to mark the occasion! "The Patch Between Worlds" She searched for threads that matched her own, a patch to call her true, but found instead a glass-born spark in colors breaking through. A touch...too brief to understand, yet bright enough to stay... stitched a truth they couldn’t name, then pulled their worlds away. For sometimes, the patch that binds two worlds is stitched in colors new... not to match the life you had, but to weave one shared by two.

Congratulations! You have minted POAP #5 from our Myth Taken Storytelling hour! This is a small thank you for being such a great listener and supporter! We hope you enjoyed your time with us! We hope you join us again! “The Feather Floats Up” 📜 A Whisper from the Memory Hall A feather rose, not by wind, but by will, Threaded with silence, impossibly still. Not a fall, not a flight...just a hush in the air, Like a thought half-remembered, too soft to declare. Emile stood watching, heart-light aglow, A glass figure rooted where memories go. No reaching, no grasping... just open and bright, As the feather swirled upward, a ribbon of light. Its path carved a spiral of glimmers and sighs, Of stories once whispered, now learning to rise. No need to control it, no need to explain... Some treasures return only after the rain. He smiled through the shimmer, Let it rise without end... Because sometimes the breaking Is how things transcend.