Travels' EndWinds fill the sails of Magellan's ships as knots in the wood tell stories of their past lives, A Jig is played by the Tea Merchants, covering the sound of footsteps on the cobblestone floor. Wisps of hair blow across her face while leaves dance around her, The Lady of Shallot. One out of eleven candles flickers and dies. Pictures line the walls while dusty volumes of Shakespeare fill the shelves. The lively conversation is gone as the night wears on and four out of eleven candles now flicker and die.Travels' End
Lost ChildI wish we were all like children. Remaining constantly curious, Being incredibly imaginative, And seizingly creative. Never failing in squeezing the most Out of every sun-shining, blue-sky day we can, Knowing that they don’t just happenLost Child
Any day of the week. Never loosing our sense of wonder or trust.
Maybe then we could take on the problems of the world fearlessly, Not allowing ourselves to fail, Armed to the teeth with solidarity and sidewalk chalk.
Few of us are able to keep our childlike idealism and fire. I have had this Peter Pan complex my
Icelandic AutumnI can’t find the words.Icelandic Autumn
They’ve escaped my mind to run away with my thoughts to play near the church. The church that lies across from the ridge of the setting sun. Reflected in its windows is the playground of the former gods. Valhalla is ablaze tonight. Pinks, oranges, reds and yellows. This is my autumn. And Thor is busy darkening the clouds to bring on the rain to awaken me in the morning.
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