There is blood on her fur-coat,
from when his nose started to bleed,
when she embraced him,
at the funeral.
There is a tear on his shoe,
from when she cried,
as he held her,
at the funeral.
There is lipstick on his cheek,
from her parted, seventy-year-old lips,
from when she kissed his cheek,
at the funeral.
And there is Julie, who is three,
doing silly magic tricks,
in the parlor,
at the funeral.
And the dead one is watching Julie,
laughing and smiling,
at the funeral.

In the middle of a typical New York City day, street performers play a dangerous alternative rock song with a tango influence, filled with missed notes and attitude. The sounds drifted along, bringing a suitable backdrop amidst the clang of cars and construction for a slender, petite figure hunched in the shadows of an historic building. Passing close on a bus, Drenan failed to notice the figure. He gazed up at the tall city buildings, overwhelmed by the feeling of greatness, somewhat alienated by their total lack of anything natural.

Today I was reading in my Understanding the Times book for my worldview class. This week we're learning about what various worldviews believe about biology. Postmodernists don't like to claim one belief over another, because that would be imposing their truth on someone else. Postmodernists believe that there is no absolute truth (note that the statement, "There is no absolute" is itself an absolute). Anyway, I read this quote by Christian author Nancy Pearcey.

A history of the world in my Stargonia book/story.
--------------------
A Brief history of Edaled

Invisible forces

Whipping you around

Branches and leaves

All around you hit the ground

The Wind has no compassion

For the foolish caught in it’s grip

It will throw you without mercy

Terrified you stand

Unable to move

It seems to be a living creature

Anticipating your every move.

There is a kind of beauty

In it’s terrible rage

You can only gasp and stare

At it’s perverse kind of pleasure

In destroying all it can

What a powerful Master we have

Chapter the First

I sit at my desk
My soul feels pinched and confined
There is too much to do
And not enough time

My feet walk away from me
My brain is still inside
And then… fall recalls me

Scents of warmth and spice
Fill my senses and
Cleanse the mind

Thoughts that cloud my mind
Are swept away
A red leaf whirling on the breeze

Swooshing feet
Through red and yellow and brown’s
crunchy carpet
Ease the crease between the brows

The warm sun touching
Warming and seeking
Refresh my spirit

Narnia

Narnia, a place of magic and intrigue.
A place where dreams can come true.
A place that evil is always defeated.
A place that many would gladly go.

The beautiful, The brave,
Both apply in this place.
Oh to see, the Table of Stone,
To stand near Cair Paravel

To be one of the first to see that infant world,
As Aslan sang it into being,
To witness the creation,
Of a Pegasus,
To fly on Fledge, to the Garden of Life.

The Last

The trumpets blare!
The heralds sing!
The banners flared!
The eagle’s wing!

Hail King Peter!
Hail Queen Susan!
Hail King Edmund!
Hail Queen Lucy!

The Magnificent!
The Gentle!
The Just!
The Brave!

From Spare Oom they came
From a journey of peril
From battle fame
They come now to Cair Paravel!

May the reign!
May they rule!
May they prosper!
May they have fame!

Hail the kings and queens!