NewBard's profile

I have never understood why we cannot sing in the starlight. As if in the dark of night evil alone broods, unchecked and eternal. I wonder how it is this infernal notion is not driven away when the moon lights up the night as the sun does the day. How can we think evil of that silver light? Can we not see that, indeed, it might be good that holds sway? I say we should put these notions of evil away and believe that it is good that reigns. Then we will be able to hear the strains of Elven harp...

Tiny rainbows dance in mulit-hued sparkles around the normal, white walls of our ordinary, everyday kitchen. I look around as the colors dance and the sight fills me with a simple wonder. I silently thank the benevolent crystal for filling my humble cereal breakfast with joy.

For All Who Are Bards Long ago, in ancient times were heard men and women who were singers of rhymes. They sang of Knowledge, Truth, and History; of tree and hill, God and Goddess, so all who heard them these things might see. Today there are still Bards who sing out the venerated Word so others might hear the Truth, if only a shard. I call upon you my sisters and brothers to join together and lift up your voices so Truth and Knowledge might be heard by others. Let us take them to the highest...

The rain washes away the dust of the day. Our lives run like rivulets across the window pane. One runs swiftly to meet its doom of dropping off the edge. As if it were in a race so it streams swiftly to the end. Yet, another meanders lazily along first zigging this way then zagging that way until finally it hangs suspended in a clear crystal drop on the edge. In the age-long instant you can see a miniture world as if through a droplet mirror and you heart is pierced with the beauty it holds. ...

I walked, singing, by the riverside and saw the silver dew beads on the tall, green grass stalks. I walked, singing, by the riverside and heard the slow-moving, brown water chuckle in lazy harmony. I walked, singing, by the riverside and smelled the opening of the delicate eyes of the dogwood, apple, and pear releasing the heady scent of summer. I walked, singing, by the riverside and gently pushed aside the green branches of the trees that sway back into place behind, enfolding me in an emer...