Lore, Poem, Sagas, Scenic, Short story, Weekend

Standing stones.

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.

Continue reading “Standing stones.”

Lore, Poem, Scenic, Short story, Weekend

So comes the next.

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.

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Poem, Scenic, Short story, Weekend

Stormy weather.

The day was slow and solemn. I woke to the sound of rain ushered by a gust, carelessly shattering the raindrops on anything it pleased. Remorselessly it came and went and did as it pleased to rain and tree alike.

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Lore, Poem, Scenic, Short story, Weekend

Dawn to dusk and back.

Upon the shoulders of Gods came man to the world.

Nurtured by nature and hardship, and inspired by acts and deeds of those far greater, he poured his being to grow.

And grow he did in words then deeds, in bravery and stoic form.

Continue reading “Dawn to dusk and back.”