Meander i - Poem - The Deathing Bell -
I am a deathing bell, tolling vibrant
And alive to more than meets an outward eye.
A widow who looks at her husband's grave
Or a child whise mother's passed beyond view
A son who looks upon his father's corpse
A mother missing daughter's laughing eyes
All these and more I ring, I toll, I call
So they may face shadows within us all
Before the tone is struck and life is gone.
Come, pull the rope and learn what dying is
A growing process of becoming whole.
Meander 2 Busy times - These days time seems to move too fast and yet slow. I'm preparing to leave for a conference and there are two library signings to do in the near future. I try to prepare and usually manage to do what must be done.
Meander 3 - Writing The rough draft of Fyre's Children is going well. Soon, I will finally have all 12 chapters blockedout. There are some interesting twists occurring. One will see what happens when all the words are on the paper and then I'll have to make sense of themess.
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