Beyond the Veil… #bookextract

“Heilyn’s mother, for instance, is no Titania. By human standards she can be cruel and heartless and her morals non-existent. You may not judge by the accepted code of our world. Faery is not immoral, but amoral in our terms. A leopard is beautiful and dangerous; it kills and devours its prey with dreadful ferocity and mates where it will. It is not evil, it follows the dictates of its own nature and instinct, yet in a human such behaviour would be condemned. So it is with the Otherworld. An ogre will rip you to shreds but it is not personal. Just a method of food preparation.”

Merlin gave them a few moments to digest this comment, their revulsion causing the glimmer of a smile.

“The next question is where are these other worlds, to which the answer is ‘right here’,” he continued. “They permeate our world in the same way as radio waves fill the air. Imagine the thousands of different broadcasts being transmitted at any time. They are all around us, unseen and unheard. They can only be deciphered with the right equipment and then they may only be clearly heard if that equipment is correctly tuned. And,” he paused to emphasise the next point, “can only be understood if you choose to listen.

“There are places where the worlds touch, their frequencies compatible. The veil is thin at the ancient sites. Most people are sensitive to their atmosphere to some degree. You three are all attuned to the life in the land and can feel more than many. You do, of course, have help and those on the other side are meeting you halfway. The battle for the Light transcends the veil and the choices made by creatures of all the worlds are essentially the same, in spite of their disparate natures. Understand this. The choices you make will echo through all the worlds.”

“Then, if these worlds are real and legend has a basis in fact,” mused Alec, “then the gods, all the gods, are real too? We met the Horned One today and something else this morning which seemed divine to me.” The others nodded in agreement.

“The gods,” replied Merlin, “are both real and mere figments of our collective imagination.” The old man chuckled at the consternation on Jamie’s face. “Yes, it is the great paradox.

“Man saw many marvels in the world when it was young. They saw that light meant life, so they worshipped the sun. By their worship the star became a deity in their eyes, but they had no abstract concept of godhead and imagined a sun god in humanised form to which they could relate. Their faith and worship were so strong, the vision of their god so concrete in their mind, that their collective prayer built a thought form on the Inner Planes. Because the principle behind their worship was a reality, the essence of that cosmic principle gave life to their god.

You could say that the gods as men have known them were created by man, but it would only be half a truth as the powers they represent existed before man walked the Earth. All the gods ever worshipped exist somewhere on the Inner Planes, waiting for their followers to call them back.

“However, most gods have many faces. The sun, the source of light and life has been worshipped by almost every community of mankind. Each aspect could be called by its particular devotees, but the power from whence the god took its being remained constant. At the end, there is but One, with countless faces. All the gods are one God; all the goddesses are one Goddess, all merely facets of a single jewel.”

From: Swords of Destiny

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Guardian ~ Anita Dawes #writephoto

A line of white foam caresses the rocky shore

Like a ribbon on a blue iced cake.

Soppy moment over,

I noticed a field of flowers beside a rocky outcrop

The faces there, taking me back to my childhood

when I played cowboys and Indians with my brothers.

Continue reading at Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie

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Free #midnighthaiku

Fences hem the fields

Denying all wanderers

Nature’s garden grows

*

Posted in Photography, Poetry | 32 Comments

May book reviews from Diana Wallace Peach

Reblogged from Myths of the Mirror:

This is an upsetting time in the US with virus deaths reaching 100k, and the 9-minute public murder of an African American man by police. My heart is broken. Reading continues to be a release.

This month my offering of reviews includes beautiful poetry, fantasy, sci-fi, and a short story. I hope you enjoy browsing my 4 and 5-star reviews. There are some lovely reads here.

Click on the covers for Amazon global links.

*****

Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings by Gabriela Marie Milton

There are poetry books where the words feel like chocolates that melt on your tongue, where the imagery seduces you into a timeless place of mystery or lays out a universe of emotion, the crux of a life in a few perfect lines. I love free verse that’s evocative, where the sounds and rhythms sweep me off my feet. Gabriela Marie Milton’s poetry is and does all those things.

The book is set up into three parts. First, Love Poems, a generous collection of free verse that took my breath away. Part two has side-by-side poems, one in English, the other its Italian translation. And Part three has short prose that honestly, reads like poetry. All of it is sublime.

And none of it should be rushed. I read this collection over two weeks, savoring each offering in the darkness before sleep. A luxurious read for anyone who loves poetry and beautiful words.

Continue reading at Myths of the Mirror

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Primogenitors ~ S. S. #writephoto

Guardians of gods

mute voyeurs, blind paragons

resigned to human design

transient salt-crust vestments

blowing in whimsy of time

Reblogged from S. S. at Getting Lost

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#ShortWrytz: Soma of Soft Skies

Steve Tanham's avatarSun in Gemini

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been entranced by the soft skies of the warmer months – particularly those of late spring, which heralds their return.

Their beauty speaks for itself… but there is something else that haunts.

The word ‘soft’ is the key. Every one of our senses is touched in a silken way by the early mornings, long days and beautiful twilights. The air is not only warm, but fragrant with the perfumes of flowers, cut grass and the smell of the powerful sunlight bathing us all.

And beyond even this, if you listen deeply there is an emotional and voiceless voice:

“I have brought this to its fullness. Put away thoughts and drink it… Let it become part of you.. Take what you can from it; let its life be yours. It is fragile because it is perfect; it lives for an instant because it…

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Guardian ~ Di #writephoto

From below, they appeared to be just cracked cliff faces of stone. Few realised they had a purpose.
Myths and legends had been made, exaggerated, muted, denied, twisted, and now no-one was prepared to protect and preserve The Guardians of Haven Cove.
For centuries they had been hidden from view, times when it was believed the Gods watched for sailors and ships in distress, bringing them safely to shore and home.
Attitudes changed following a freak storm that left many wrecked, broken and dead. A warning they said, a curse on the community, no longer a safe haven.

Continue reading at pensitivity101

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Guardian ~ Ritu Bhathal #writephoto

Watching over you
For all of Eternity
Don’t ‘alf cause wrinkles
Still, I’ll be here forever
Trying my best to guard you

Reblogged from But I Smile Anyway

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An iceberg universe

Image by Uwe Kils Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported

Image by Uwe Kils

Fat little fingers hold up the toy as she peers at her reflection, laughing at herself. That she is, at two years old, very self-aware is evident in the way she plays with her own and her family’s reflections in the big, night-darkened windows. It is evident too in her naming of people and creatures, differentiating them from herself and recognising their unique individuality. She has already learned who to turn to at any given moment to have her needs and desires met and twists her father round her tiny finger with no more than a smile. She knows her own mind, there is a real and distinct personality and a playful sense of humour developing and showing in her offering and withholding of kisses and objects… and in the very definite ‘no’ with which she has established both her right and her ability to make her own choices.

She kisses her reflection and passes the little toy mirror to her father, quite obviously expecting him to look. I wonder… does she think her image will still be there for him to see? Or does she realise that he will only see his own reflection?

Her language skills are still too limited to discuss such a complex oncept, so the question goes unasked, but it is interesting and delightful to watch her emerge from the cocoon of babyhood and become a person. This infant Eve, whose hair matches my own baby locks perfectly and whose look of mischief mirrors certain treasured photographs and her big sister’s mischief, is bidding fair to become a force to be reckoned with. Watching her and sensing the dancing echoes of the future, I am glad I only had sons to raise…

But it left me wondering… when do humans become conscious of selfhood? How do we know? We can see and measure certain reactions… like the recognition of the distinction between object and reflection, for example. We can put an age to various calibrated steps that show self-awareness. But I got stuck on the word ‘show‘…

Continue reading at The Silent Eye

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Beckoning Beacon ~ Jules #writephoto

I hoped Sal would have left the light on
I entered the little harbor with the Watchmen,
Their expressions hadn’t changed much.
They were the guardians of the island
To which I was homesick for…

Continue reading at Jules Pens Some Gems

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