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SamhainHear the wolf cry and the old bull bellow
At the pulse of the spirits on the eve of All Hallows
As the sky grows dim and the clouds are low
And the Earth is alight with the Autumn glow
Oh, Samhain, Samhain! The night of old!
The veil grows thin and the ether grows cold
The spirits fly forth at the end of the day
With a candle I show them the way…
I walk in the forest in the cold, crisp air
My spirit is free and my soul is bare
I walk in silence but never alone
The spirits surround me, their power has grown
Oh, Samhain, Samhain! The raven, he calls!
His power it steals through the icy stone walls
As the night nears its darkest, so black and so bleak
The spirits, the spirits, they speak…
Their visions before me, they course through my soul
Their power consumes me, I fight for control
The ground falls before me, the forest is gone
The night creeps inside me and at last we are one
Oh, Samhain, Samhain! The Goddess divine!
The power, the raven, the night, it is mine!
The RainbowStanding on a hilltop
At a fast receding beam of light
My beam of light
Disappearing into the distance…
Blind to the ever patient sun
I chased rainbows
The spectrum filled my sight
Certain I would catch up
Struggling through a blizzard
Rain stinging my face
I lost sight of the sun…
It became too much
Tired of running
I let my rainbow go…
The sun warms my back
My rainbow flutters away into the night
I am free.
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More