Saturday, July 18, 2009

Welsh Hills...

The evening is raw and fallen,
The chill bone-deep upon the wind.

The stones by the solemn blue seaside are wary and drab,
Laid in a place where hearts rage in wounded silence.

There is a cold and ancient magic there,
Amid the barrows and monoliths in the Welsh hills.

It makes people sing.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/18/2009

Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.

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