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Quote by: Ring time
And there is a rumor in the forest...

••• If they believed in themselves, as they believe in dark and vicious words that desecrate minds and souls. If that same force will be used for them. Their concrete forests would flourish instead of dying in droughts caused by the minds of dark power . •••

Todos of their language standing silent yet strong
in solidarity
  they take a stand
Wolves of a pack bonding together
refusal
of the highest order ...
Dark energy of wolves  
wolverine primal instincts, darkness!
Turned into strength,  by the gentle presence of
intuition and wisdom
To know them is to understand their value
both loyal and strong they are brave warriors
of the forest.
I stand by the sea and watch the sky turn into a lovely shade of April blue.  I see big old trees dotting the edge of the horizon and a lovely red sunset.  I can only imagine who the man upstairs is and how he has managed to create such a beautiful landscape here on earth...  Let alone the heavens!
Oh my stars !!!
you don't belong in jars  
Father shines you from afar  
I scoop a bit of water in my hands then watch it clump the sand.  Drawing my knees up to my chest I lift my head to watch Selene, Goddess of the moon  raising a glassy white moon with her arms.  It is a natural moon, pouring out light onto a blessed hour of darkness, and so I give Him thanks and praise!        
Her dress, a gown of clouds
puffed up like a shroud
Misty colored, never loud
"If I could, I would fetch you the moon on a spoon." I say to the ether of His quiet.  Then as if by magic a streak of silver appears, mirroring the aging gray hair on my head.  What else in life can make you feel as good as when God's world suddenly melts inside of you? What else can claim your soul the way the stars and the moon do,  ... let alone the ocean view !
By: Mystic Rose
As the last
petal
      falls
from the stem
of
    your beautiful heart,
I will
catch  
         it
then own  
in my hands,  

              the most
        tenderest
                       part  
of your
          ALL !
Nestled deep within the feel and touch of home
this heart of love goes on a holiday
Like feathered birds in heaven when they roam
all thoughts of you arise, like birds of clay

Nestled deep within the soul I have no choice  
but flap these wings and lead you to my heart
Like  warblers in the sun with trilling voice
all thoughts of you sing sweet, it is an art

Nestled at the font of love the heart's own mind
is like a shelter of collective pasts
Like memories of old that can't go blind
all ardors of the heart seem to outlast

Unblinking as the sun that shines inside my heart
the heart and mind of you and I, will never part.
She was eighteen years of age and tattoos were the latest rage. Snapping her bubble gum she plunks herself on a chair then asks  " May I have a tattoo please" I see a young girl in a messy ponytail and an old beaten up jacket.  I worry that she'll pick something God awful and then I'll have to oblige.  
The boldness of youth
can appear so uncouth
yet reveal so much truth
"I want a tattoo of a winter vine.  One that will not go away nor fade with time" Touching the tip of the needle to the ink it ***** up into the cartilage reservoir.
As the machine begins to “buzz” the armature bar hits the coil and I begin to work. Stretched across her upper arm I notice a discoloration of the skin, a slow petering bruise.
Eyes color of snake
she is all heartache
I take a break...
"Why did you choose a vine?" I ask,  but all I get is silence and a slow breath intake.    
As the coil tattoo gun moves up and down continuously the clicking sound feels soothing
to her ear.  " The last memory I have of my mom is of the the winery.  She told me how the
leaves shimmer with color before falling off.  How the sap sinks into the roots and the vine
falls asleep, while waiting for the next summer to appear.
the tendrils climb
this is her time
not mine
In her handbag she carries a heavy load plus some green crumpled dollar bills.  " How much do I owe you?" she asks.  I tell her shes already paid her dues " No charge. " I say.  She smiles and then she leaves, as if on cue...
She danced over my desires like a light footed ballerina
tapping into my longings like an intuitive child of the seventies
Every drip of icicle sent shivers down my spine
and so I wrote her a letter, asking her to  quietly go away;
She answered me, with a whip of wind and a  halo from the sun
her summons were refreshing, like a snowflake on the tongue
Although I begged her to release her seasonal lurk on me
she gave me stretchy moments  filled with February days
She made me long for sunshine five hours every day
and as I synced my calendar,  March arrived Hurray Hurray !
Every hill of white and every snowflake bright
did eventually, fade away ....
She danced into my birthday month and gifted me the spring
and as I sat on my veranda I could hear the birdies sing
Every touch of her was gone at least for one more year
and so I wrote another letter, thanking her for her short stay !
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