When beauty fills the eye and encases mind The will to put pen to pad is oft hard to find. The moment is too peaceful and perfect And words would but distract, From that which beckons calm to soul and ceasing to act. So instead I absorb; the moment passes by And is lost but …
Lasgaleth had seldom been out at sea, and never on such a grand and refined vessel as the Morning Sailor. Though finding sleep on a rocking hammock in the hold with all the creaking, scraping and screeching was nigh impossible at first, the rest of the day was pleasant enough. Late in the morning of the …
Read more “From Book 1, Part 1, Chapter 8 of The Dark World”
Why were they called the Singing Mountains? Was it for the western birds, whose song filled the wide expanse from the Kahadlakh to the shores of the Björgrin peninsula? Was it for the east wind, caught up in currents which weaved to and fro through the green highland in composition? Or was it for another …