Time passes as it will, unchanged, unmoved, untouched. Yet what it leaves in its wake is everything but.
For the traveller by foot, it is as leaving one’s old shoes by the wayside. Perhaps to be used by one less fortunate, or more likely, to be forgotten.
The time comes soon to dance between the stones. In rings made long ago by hands of ancestors whose names and faces are long forgotten. Whose words we try as we can to remember, but through the ages have become something else.
The world emerged from winter, ready for life and seed.
From cold and sheltered homes, into the warm be freed.
And light will come to grace the sky, and show off heaven’s form.
But run along back toward your home, for so comes a horrid storm.
A response.
Bursting with energy and ready to act. Ready to take the world head on and take it by it’s throat. That all would submit and know that which is true. So all would feel that which is felt in this moment.
When the dawn comes, the dark will fade.
A darkness which was engulfing and omnipresent, which filled the sky, the sounds and smells of the world around, will be shown as an illusion to the great flame which rises in the sky.
The Ederren 