Love wraps itself into your heart, starting from nothing, it grows – bigger each day.
A thread, a thought, a want, a need, so love grows.
The smile, the touch, a test of time.
If I loved you less, I would never care where you were or how you were.
This way I wish for your happiness.
This way I pray for your dreams to come true.
This way I know I can live without you.
This way I know I don’t want to.
So love grows.
I loved you before I met you.
I love you now.
I love you forever.
So love grows.
And that is how love goes.
The orange was vivid – running boldly across the clouds.
The purple danced, begging not to be left out.
The rosy pink was shy – showing up here and there.
Brilliant shafts of light held edges forged in gold.
The Earth stood still – just a moment caught in time.
The sun pushed ahead – a new day was born.
Where peace once stood and freedom rang, the people hid, the sky stood gray.
The world was dark, its depth untold, the night had come to stay.
Sorrow ran in molten tears, no children came to play.
Peace had died, mankind slain, on one September day.
If we should share a Lover’s Kiss
a moment caught in time.
Would we someday reminisce,
our thoughts, our futures still entwined?
Or would we go our separate ways
for once we crossed the line,
destroyed all 2 friends could share,
those moments lost and always missed,
because we shared a Lover’s Kiss?
I watched the youth come over the hill, his shoulders hunched, my heart stood still. He struggled to make the top of that rise – his brow was furled, his breath was strained. The path ran down through a vale of peace, he chose it not and lifted his head to look at the mountain that was black and grim . . . I could not breathe for I knew him.
He held his pace and began to climb – straight up the face into clouds of black . . . I prayed that he would just turn back. He slipped and fell, then caught himself – the shirt was shredded across his back. His flesh was torn and still he climbed, up through the rocks and peaks of time.
He fell again and began to slip. The fires of hell opened far below and the mountain shuddered threatening to explode. My agony increased as I watched him hang, over an abyss that called to him . . . filled with the anguish of others who had failed within.
He pulled himself up, an inch at a time – each inch was measured by years of my life. The fateful climb was taking its toll, his blood was spilled and left behind . . . each drop had a hold on his soul. I tried to scream, “Don’t give up!” but an echo of silence was all I heard and then his breath more ragged and tense, built walls around me that would not move.
Just when I thought I would die with him, for his life was a measure of me, he crawled to the top, weak and grim, pulled himself up and lifted his chin. He was injured and weak, but stood strong and tall, the walls of his pain began to fall. He turned with a smile, a beckoning call, “See Mom, I made it after all.”
The gorge spread out before Togohn. Splitting the land as far as the eye could see, the gaping, empty blackness appeared to have a life of its own. The wind raced up out of its depths, twisting and howling in its flight to the stars – the Star Wind.
Excitement overcame the doubt and guilt that gnawed at Togohn. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Taking a deep breath, he turned off the engine of his modified skimmer just as it cruised over the edge of the gorge. The skimmer dropped straight down. His breath caught in his throat. His heart jumped. His stomach bounced somewhere in space trying to find him.
Continue reading Surfing the Star Wind – A Story
Shenrah’s tiny fingers combed the tangled, black hair away from her pointed ears. Brown eyes searched the leaves and flowers until she found enough morning dew for a bath. Afterwards her soft, green wings flexed and spread, fanning her dry.
She was one of the young fairies of Gleth Forest. They slept in beds of vining ivy and awoke each day to leaf carpeted branches covered with flowers. High above the forest floor they were safe from the Barthdread, a hideous, furry beast that considered fairies to be a delicacy. There was a time when the fairies danced and sang. Every day was a holiday. Now everything was different. Shenrah knew why but she told no one.
Continue reading Shenrah and the heartstone – A Story