A poem written with a syllable pattern of 5-7-5-7-7...for all the pagan souls who have lost the voice to sing.
Freedom isn't something we're given. It's something we have to fight for - not once or twice, not just when it's convenient or when it affects us personally - but all the time. Freedom is something that, if you grow complacent, can slip away from you before you know it.
A poem about two lovers.
meanwhile, the days passed with foul weather and thick fog and still there was no sight of the husbands returning from their venture over the waves. Jehanna, as well as the other fisher-wives, grew increasingly anxious... Part 3 of "The Bells of Reine".
I feel connected to the changing seasons where I live. The turn of the year is an recurrent experience of which I never tire...