Many times I had gone by those fields where fortune flowers. My wealth was noticed on the path and where those paths did lead. Continue reading “Flowering fields of fortune.”
These fields stood empty in the winter. A vast swathe of land covered in nought but snow whilst surrounded by the evergreens whose colors peeked out from under blankets of white. Continue reading “Cycles.”
Upon the lands of forebears where farms and forests are, so many lives would toil and hunt beneath sun and countless stars, to all who would come after them that land would be a gift, and knowing well their place it was that there would be no rift.
For a plethora of reasons we found our stores deficient for this endeavor. For the laziness and greed of financiers, and superior suggestions of those who know it all in theory but of course not in practice. Continue reading “The ship’s log.”
That which weaves which cannot be broken, as sleep is to death as birth to awoken. Continue reading “Life walks on.”