As kids we were never close, and even as adults we are not that close. There's always room for improving our lives and why not work toward strengthening those bonds that should be closest to us.
I feel for the folks who have to deal with the Real Thing - with snow up to their necks, buried cars, and being home bound. Well, such is the Turning of the Wheel of seasons in order to get up back around to the joyou warmth of the bright summer daze! Least with winter festivals and bundling families the cold is more bearable.
- Just hate getting out in it. . .
Well who would have thought? For quiet a long time there Tehuti had tried to get me into blogging, but because I knew so little about it I felt incapable of pulling it off; yet I finally jumped into blogging, with misspellings and doubts. Well, a year later - after having faded once or twice - I'm still here.
After a year of blogging, having never really kept a journal, I find it a little interesting of the changes I've gone through and the Times as well. Learned more about photoshop, figured out some HTML codes, gotten a new Puppy, moved to a new apartment, a precious granddaughter, had a brother-in-law move in with us, started developing a Company...
Thank you readers for staying interested. Let's see where I am come Next year. . .
As the elders argued among themselves Calan's thoughts strayed. He wondered about the lives of those founding fathers, those ancient Watchers. Now, that he had finally been admitted into the Great Hall, Calan was able to see the detailed chamber in person. There, memorialized in their burial shrouds, as a relief of molded silver, the Watchers themselves decorated the walls. Their errier, silent likenesses commemorated the end of an erea - the passing of Nephilim immortality. But had they as individuals been befitting of such high honnors? Were they as righteous or wise as the stories told? Who could tell for sure, for they had all died years ago, and surely their deeds were exgsaerated?
As Calan listen to Barad drum up support for an army, he surrveyed the faces of those vain Stewards, in their embroided layers of robes, cords and bells; beautifully set in their bitter pious ways. He thought it strange how the light from the tripod lamps cast a creepy, orange glow across their faces, and how they resembled the morbid figures standing behind them. Then it came to him - the Stewards were nothing more than a reflextion of the Watchers own dead values.
How - just moments before he and Barad had interrupted their meeting - they would endlessly argue among themselves over the conjectures of past predictions, and make future speculations on the arrival of those who would never return. Calan thought it all sillyness, 'Wasting their lives in such foolish disputes; they're just as cold as the stone benches they sit on!' Yet, they would be a means to his end....
westward till I crossed the river's pebbled ford,
journeying as a solitary stranger dressed in somber grey.
On the second evening of a moondimmed pitch
the night became bathed in a blazing light,
as screams rose louder from the torched city.
Arriving upon Uruk's frightful confusion,
where a firery slaughter had awakened its slumbering guards;
its warriors caught unaware by a stealthy enemy.
I entered that battle unsumonsed -
with bow at ready and dagger sheathed
searching, without finding its cause for alarm.
As if still cloaked, my presence went unnoticed
as the people ran in panicked defense;
I sought that precious maiden who had won my heart.
She who gave my life its renewed purpose
and refuge during that time of my foolish exile;
ere Ra`More's fell demise by Nephilim hands.
"Erin-Enava!" I cried in vain in the night;
stepping through the body littled streests
as smoke gathered in that burning city of men.
A voice that once sang to me with laughter,
now faintly called amid the bleating commands of a whip;
from a house which blazed near the Eastern Gate.
Entering that smoldering threshold I saw her
crouching upon the floorwith blocked arms
warding off the blow of a raised whip.
A Nephilim dressed in silver-black's High garb
stood over his subdubed victim in mid swing'
quickly turned his mithrel armor to my inturtion.
We stood rival to rival at last facing our choice;
unwavering my arrow let loose to protect -
found its hiddious mark deep within his chest.
In one fell move the pain melted away the years;
he slumpt to his knees and fell upon his side
as his helmeted face was suddenly revealed.
The scribe stared as his brother's voice
came from the heap before him, "Feandar!
Betrayed... it's over, now I see..." Whip released.
Raptured from that baneful placed I gathered Enava
unto myself in a smothering embrace
as we fled those crumbling timber flames.
Beyond the city's burning wall I was counted
among those homeless ones who stared with
hollowed, numbed nothingness.
Enava lay dead in my arms, limp warmth
as her beauty remained to me unmarred
with her ashen face and rent garments.
"My Morning Love" remained forever unchanged
in my memories, yet her cooling form returned
not the sweet affecction we once exchanged.
I allowed her daughter to clean and redress her;
as after my people's fashion I consecrated her
with oils and spices, then bound her in my cloak.
Long I sat by her side meditating of our love;
lives briefly lived then quickly taken away -
tender was my soul-mate which none could replace.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I've seen this several times on other sites, and have now gotten into it myself. Photobucket seems to be a photo sharing resource, with tags for Templates and such... heumm - cool, stumbling and learning new things.
"Click" link and type Falconmyst, or whatever you may be SEARCHing.
"...The only way we can win the war on terrorism, folks, is to destroy the terror of liberalism and evil that exists inside this Christian Nation. It starts with the children. It starts at home. It might be something as simple as organizing a Harry Potter book burning, or placing your child's hands on a hot stove if you catch them masturbating. It could even be a simple gesture, like shipping your 11-year-old son off to military school, or cutting off part of your daughter's ear for listening to N'Sync. We've got to get back to God, folks! We've got to do it fast, and we don't have time to worry about nonsense like "human rights violations!" Jesus, Please allow us to legally do what you tell us to do in that precious Book your Daddy wrote!"
"The first day of the Fair of Merd saw a swarm of people entering the walled city of Germaine to set up their stalls in the marketplace. Jugglers, courtesans, artisans, storytellers, and vendors of every commodity imaginable thronged the plaza, each vying for the attention of the passerby.
"Chance for gold! Play the game of Kings! Double the contents of your purse!"
In one corner of the market sat an ostentatiously-attired young man. Before him was a gaming board set with curiously-wrought playing pieces which gleamed in the late morning sun.
"Chance for gold! Play the game of Kings! Double the contents of your purse!" Few of the passersby did more than momentarily glance at the board. One onlooker, however, stopped in his tracks and surveyed the table with puzzlement written upon his face.
"Try your luck, sir?" queried the young man.
The potential customer, a large barbarous sort, shrugged his brawny shoulders, and took a seaton the provided stool, which groaned ominously. Even sitting down, he towered over most people. He scratched in turn his hairy pot-belly, his long mop of dirty-brown hair, and the matching beard which grew wildly from his broad face.
The young man withdrew from a pocket of his cloak a large deck of cards which he began shuffling flamboyantly as he explained the rules of the game. *
*Originally written by Michael T. Smith and Don Walker
Ah the early morning light is pouring in through the upstairs window flooding the appartment with a false sence of warmth; it was very cool when the dogs when out for thier ritual visits.
Well our outing yesterday left me a bit down trodden but I guess you can't be King of the world everyday or expect a winner the first time around in starting a small bussiness, 'eh?
We went to one dealer who shared his years of experience as a shop owner in the gaming industry, and - well 'wet blanket' is mild to say the least. Discouragingly honest. Ah, its just a hobby at this point any who.
We still have much work to accomplish in even beginning our small bussiness; however, on a marketing excursion to various North Texas shops, at least three appeared hopeful. We went to the Dallas Galleria Mall yesterday. At one of the upper level shops, Amazing Toy Creations, the spokesperson was very open to the possibility of us placing our GAME OF KINGS on consignment at thier location. If nothing else it would be name reconginition, and at least a foot-in-the-door to other local Merchants.
It's just a neat hobby - using my artistic abilities, but who knows with a lot of patience, luck, and a great deal of presistance we just may be on to something. The experience will be interesting to say the least.