The wind over the mountain whistling
The dwarves sit in their halls of stone
Their hearts are colder than the mountain peaks
Colder, colder, to the bone.
“Our fingers long for work of ours!”
Their voices cry with the wind.
“Give us back what belongs to us!”
Their grief beyond any other’s ken.
No care for trees, nor care for sky
No care for other moving things

Just let them have the work of their hands

The crowns and jewelry fit for kings.

Their love is silver, bright, bright stones

The room is empty
The walls are bare
You can look in as you pass by
But no one is there
The room where they lived
Where they loved and they laughed
Is forsaken and lonely
Sleeping at last.
The door has been locked
And the windows are closed
Left in the wake
Is a room, all alone.
In solitary it is left
With dreams unfulfilled
The air that was breathed
Is now painfully still.
But what of the memories
That have been left behind
They sleep there alone

A single, scarce beam of moonlight shone weakly down into the center of the dark room. There, it cautiously touched a circle of seven chairs, where it competed with several odd, low burnt candles for possession of the flickering shadows. The chairs themselves were very old, and fashioned from an intricately carved red wood gilded with gold and dark rubies. Seven men sat in the seven chairs; six silent, stern-faced professors and one stern-faced superintendent.

My Dear Mary,
Do not be afraid. I have a special message for you, my child. These things may sound strange, but be comforted - I am in control and have good plans for your future.
I know you are "only" a fourteen-year-old girl living in the small town of Nazareth. Yet you will fulfill the words of the prophet Isaiah,
"Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
And they shall call his name Immanuel."

The sky is gray,
thick clouds block the sun's rays,
raindrops fall and splash down,
mingling with the tears of the farmer,
his heart is full of graditude,
to the One who brought the rain
for his thirsty crop.

The flames are bright against
the black, starless sky.
Water gushes forth from the hose
in the fireman's gloved hands.
His eyes burn from the smoke,
his face is blackened from soot.
And he cries when the baby is
rescued.

I thought I was tough,
but that was before you
entered my life.
I thought I couldn't cry,
but that was before you died.
Now I know I ain't so tough,
and I can cry with the best
of them.
I guess it takes losing someone
you love to be able to cry.

God's love overflows
like a brook
after a fresh rain.
God offers so much,
takes away your pain!
God gave His only Son
to die and take your
sins.
God gives hope to the
hopeless,
joy to the joyless.
God is amazing!
God is awesome!!
Like no other I know!!

I realized that I haven’t posted anything on apricotpie in a month or so but nothing has come to me lately.
So I’ll just tell you my resent excitement, hobbies, and WHAT’S UP!!!! :) SO here we go: