Thunderfire
Great in stature
Tall above all horses
Strong are his muscles

And limbs that carry him
Dark is his coat
And fire is his eyes

Black mane and tail
Wind whipping through
Wind licking the feather of his hooves
Thunder
Releases when they pound
On the ground faster than
Speed of light
His neigh
Powerful as raging storms

Hooves of thunder
Eyes of fire
Thunderhooves
The Thunderfire

Part Two: O’brey

I walked through the door to the old bookshop. It smelled slightly of books, but there was an overpowering odor of mold. I wrinkled my nose, as I felt a sneeze begin to creep through my nasal cavities. Ew, why would my mother insist I get a job here? I replayed the scene that had unfolded last night, in my mind.

God wove a web of loveliness
Of clouds and stars and birds
But made not anything at all
So beautiful as words
~Anna Hempstead Branch

We are all pencils in the hand of God
~Mother Teresa

God’s teeming creation that frustrates and delights me…far exceeds anything I could make up
~Janie B. Cheaney

Literature is the art of writing something that will be read twice
~Cyril Connoly

Every time an artist creates…they act in the image of the Creator
~James Romaine

I am America…
I wonder how strong I am
I hear my song
I see freedom in the eyes of our president
I want people to enjoy me more.
I am America…

I pretend like everything is okay
I feel loyalty
I touch the hearts of many
I worry about my people
I cry for the unfree.
I am America…

I understand my place
I know I am great
I dream of love
I try to make everything perfect
I hope everyone will one day understand us
I am America.

Flooded with tears,
Mind flooded with fears,
Flooded with rain,
But still you’re the same,
I wanna scream,
Flooding my ears with the desperate noise,
My heart sinking flooded with your hopeful joys.
You left a simple note,
Flooded with goodbyes and little white lies,
My tearstained heart flooded with sighs.
Wonder if she will feel this way because of you?
She’s got you and all I’ve got is the picture of us close to my heart,
Flooded with colors of us,
Flooded with history,
Flooded with what used to be,

Not long into their walk they passed a small park that lay silent by the side of the road. It stretched back from the sidewalk into the darkness and was watched over by large, spreading trees. The faintest glimmer of reflected moonlight betrayed the presence of a shallow pond reposing under the overhanging leaves.

Andrew looked up suddenly upon beholding this restful spot of nature. He smiled happily and turned to his companion. “Look at this little park by the road. It will always be dear to me, for it was here, down by the water, that I met the girl I am now devoted to.”

Methuselah. It’s an interesting name, to say the least. A name which belongs to a rather obscure character in the Bible. He is probably known to most as the man with the longest recorded life span in history. He lived a grand total of 969 years; but that was really not astounding, as most people during his time seemed to live well into their nine hundreds. His own grandfather, Jared, lived 962 years. Adam lived to be 930, and Noah to 950.

Silence.
All is silent.
No sound to break
the solemn ache.
So fingers dare
to take it away.
A string of notes
circles down,
flowing through
first, the crashing bound
of the sea,
relenting to
the complexity
of a secret past.
Rising up
the mystery of
the unknown,
and singing the
lightness of
a spirit.
Pulling the strain of
a tossing vessel
Raging the cry
of clashing metal.
Singing
pink horizons
blowing leaves
running feet

Death is on the line,
As I pushed pass the crowds of people on the sidewalk, And walked up to the bridge,

Death is on the line.
As the little girl, walked pass the dead shrub, holding her little brothers hands, too weak to carry him.

Death is on the line.
As I was about to walk in the store, and saw a man with a sign, I kept going.

Death is on the line.
When fatherless child was yet to be bore, or arborted.

Death is on the line.
When father who lost his job, was living under bridges with his family.