With midnight locks flowing over her shoulder, she has a mischievous smile that says she has a secret. Her skin is smooth and fair, but do not let her gentle ways deceive you. With eyes that pierce into you like a cold north wind , she can see the truth of what you are hiding. She has a gentle touch but do not get caught in her spell. She will cast upon you her charms and leave you trapped in bewilderment, only wanting more of her. She is like an intoxicating fragrance of a rare flower or a bouquet of fine wine. Once you have encountered her, you will not be able to get enough of her and you will never forget her as she leaves you longing to see her again. So tread carefully when you see the Raven haired girl..

Splendid maiden with hair like fine linen, silver braids that blow in the wind. Walking from among trees filled with glints of fair wings she steps out into the water and immerses herself in the cool running stream. Nymphs sing to her as she goes under, into the **** bed she wraps herself in a green shroud. Then she rises out of the water, her pail form covered as the sun shines down on her. She lets the green shroud fall to reveal her body, her curves are revealed as her long hair lays down over her body. She shakes off the silver droplets and pulls her hair up upon her like a crown. She sinks her toes into the warm sand as she lays out on a Lilly pad next to a frog warming itself. A warm breeze blows by and she feels her body stir. Off of the pad and onto a Water Lilly, she calls out softly as a fish comes and pushes the flower along. Down the river she goes, her magnificent form enchanting any who may happen to see her. The daughter of nature, a river princess crowned in beauty and grace by magic and creation.

One day a person shall come, that person shall speak of great things. They will soothe the hot tempers and ideological bridges shall be mended. They will tell all what they need to hear. Kingdoms shall surrender their power and empires will relinquish their give up their wealth. The seductiveness of the word smith will put many in a trance. Polished and refined to some, simple and comforting to others, many shall fall under the spell of the dream weaver. Then in a sudden acclimation, a new power shall rise. Promising everything but delivering little, for a short season there shall be peace as ears stop hearing and eyes are blinded by the words that shall conquer the world.

Most people will not acknowledge them but miracles happen everyday. A persons incurable cancer disappears, a person survives a horrific accident without a scratch. Other miracles happen, but we do not want to believe. A scientist makes a ground breaking discovery that can cure an incurable disease. Mankind does feats of engineering that science fiction writers only dreamed were real. A person who seemed doomed, finds redemption and kindness, some people say it cannot be real. I tell you miracles are everywhere, if we only choose to see them. We too can do miracles if you only choose to believe in them. Give a hopeless child a book and a meal, share a tragedy with someone whom you have loss in common, help that soul heal. Give a thirsty person a glass of water plant a seed of hope. Tell them that it will rain tomorrow and they will have more than enough to drink. You ask me if miracles are real, I say they are you see. Miracles need not come from a God or scientist, they can start with you and me.

I looked into a shaded alley and I saw a shadow hovering there. A chill ran down my spine, I wasn't sure what it was. Could it have been a piece of my imagination coming out from my sub conscience, or just a rogue shadow cast by something I did not notice. Though I cannot be sure with great certainty, I do believe that the shadow was watching me.

Buildings are erected, monuments are carved out of pieces of stone. Mountains are turned into temples and great halls ring out with the songs of adoration as they sparkle adorned with the riches of kingdoms. What if God wants none of these, what if God sits in a field by a stream. What if his Cathedral is not made by human hands and what if his adoration is not for song, but mercy? What if he does not want houses adorned with treasure, but simple buildings where people feel welcome and the riches are heaped upon the poor and wretched and the sick? Perhaps God does not require our wealth, only our love and willingness to help our fellow human? Perhaps Gods house is where ever he finds those doing his will.

Things corrupt the minds of people. Ideologies fight to hold on to power. The one constant is time, it moves onward and does not stop for anyone. The shattered paradigms of the old ways litter the pathways of history. Those who fought to keep their way of thinking alive litter the tombs of forgotten of failed crusades. Truth will always win out over a lie. Progress, real progress will not be suppressed forever. Age takes away the original progenitors of a movement and a thing splinters and cracks under the weight of it's own internal conflict. Though progress is slow, it will leave ruins behind and overgrow hatred. What is left is the truth, a shining light that becomes a beacon to others who will follow it and not rest on old fears and misunderstandings that have not worked nor ever will.