What can you see on your path, is it a pile of stones? When you climbed on their necks, did you feel their warmth? Will you remember their hands saving from falling down? Can you see the living faces in the tapestry of time? When did you enter the realm of the blinding sands? When did you cross the final line and strived to ascend? Flawless you...Learn More

When the summer fields are mown When the birds are fledged and flown And the dry leaves Strew the path With the falling of the snow With the cawing of the crow Once again the fields we mow And gather in the aftermath Not the sweet, new grass with flowers Is this harvesting of ours; Not the upland clover Bloom But the rowen mixed with weeds Tangled...Learn More