#bringing in the sheaves

[countesspetofi]

Bringing in the Sheaves ~ Burl Ives (1965)

When I was really little, we had this record of Burl Ives singing “Bringing in the Sheaves,” and it was one of my favorites. At the time, I thought he was singing about bringing in the sheets, as in taking the dry laundry off the clothesline like I used to help Mom do, All those lines about sewing (sowing) didn’t help, although I did wonder why Burl’s sheets needed so much mending. Kind of embarrassing for a kid who grew up in farm country.

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

By Moonlight

Adar x Fem!Elf!Reader

Part One- Babes in the Woods

Summery: Reader finds Uruk children alone in the forest and returns them to their own meeting their "Adar".

Warnings: cannon typical violence

Only a little Adar in this first bit but this will be many parts of pining for Lord Father of the Uruks. So enjoy time with the babies for now!

Druadan Forest was the farthest west you'd ever been. The pine trees cast their needles to the uneven path, wind wiping them around your aching feet. You pulled your thin cloaks hood tighter to your face as a harsh gust sent them to your exposed skin. The last warmth of summer still clung in the air and you were thankful for that.

Avari elves were few and far between these days. After kin had been stolen by Morgoth many hid away farther South, deep in forests or caves. For you this was an impossible ask, to spend your millennia without a glimpse of starlight or another kindred soul to watch the ages pass with. Your wild flee into the moonlit night from everything you'd ever known had been the most terrifying moment of your long life. Though to this day you could not regret the action, not even as the hunger pains hit once more.

You stopped by a gnarly felled tree, tucking yourself and your knapsack low in the cover of its exposed roots. The ground was softer here, a patch of moss that you rested your weary legs on. Your water skin was nearing empty but you drank your fill regardless. There was a stream or river close enough you could hear its rubble from your resting spot. You let your eyes drift closed against the golden rays piercing through the canopy and tried to hold off from eating the last of your last catch a little while longer.

The sound that startled you from your rest was unlike anything you'd ever heard. Loud, piercing and in an extreme state of duress. Your body seemed to react to it of its own accord, slinging your bag to your back and leaping into a run in one swift motion.

A part of you feared it may be some kind of trap. You'd encountered enough slit throats and wolves to feed that concern. That you'd be sprinting headfirst into your own death here but the wail only seemed to get more pained the closer to the river you ran. You made your mind up when you finally recognised the sound. You'd been the youngest of your kin and had never actually beheld an infant before but you were certain that's what it was. A baby.

The forest thinned by the river, earth turning to stone but your feet were light and made not a sound as you caught sight of an over turned caravan. It seemed made of scrap material and brittle wood and now laid on its side with two more coming into view in much the same state behind it.

You stopped your approach on the edge of the trees as a jeering laugh broke out. The wailing had stopped a abruptly and in its absence you were able to focus on the group ahead. Three men around a large fire. There were body's already burning upon it, filling the air with its acrid, metallic smell.

They seemed to be celebrating, this their enemy's pyre and not one for their own. Still it hardly seemed the place for a baby to be and you set your keen eyes to the men themselves. Each had sheaved weapons, bows strung to their backs. A mousey blond swiped dark blood from a long dagger onto his sleeve as his broad companion tossed something to the fire.

Then you saw it, the little bundle hanging in its tattered blanket from the fist of the smallest man. He sneered wildly at his companions before bringing the child back to him and removing the blanket.

The screech pierced the world again, an excruciating wail as the low sun's orange rays beat against ashen skin. Again your body moved before your mind, short sword drawn and sliced through the man's wrist. You caught the babe rolling with it pressed to your chest before the severed hand hit the ground.

The small man brought his bleeding stump to his face, screaming and stumbling back into the pyre. His wails turned shrill as he fought the spreading flames. His kin turning to your hunched form and drawing swords.

It was at this moment a stone whipped past your hair and struck the blond on his temple. Using the distraction your surged forward, driving your blade under the larger man's leather armor and to his heart. You spun as you pulled your blade free spraying crimson across white stone.

The blond met your eyes, a hand over his eye were blood trickled down. He had his own blade in hand now, a broadsword that seemed too large for his frame. Still with unexpected strength he swung it one handed were you had been. The blade just catching against the hem of your dress and tearing the fabric. Not for the first time in your journey you'd cursed the thing.

The baby you held cried out again and you risked a glance down at it, eyes widening as you finally took in its form. Pale skin, paler even than you'd first seen, rendered reddish by the suns exposure. It's ears tucked in wisps of white hair were pointed like your own but turned slight downward. It was an orc child.

You didn't have time to take it all in as a nearby squeak altered you to the swords stroke coming down to your head. You just managed to lift your own to meet it, metal clashing and sparking as you used it's momentum. You slid with the force pushed atop you between the assailants legs, orc again pressed against you. Then with a cry of your own you raised up and stabbed through the blonds back.

The world seemed to hold its breath then with you. Silence ringing in your ears as you looked to the setting sun. You turned your back to it, letting your shadow cast over the infants form as you held it out from you again. The cries were nothing more than burbles now, residual pain from its burnt skin being forgotten as it blinked large amber eyes at your own. Tiny hands reached out to you as grumbling sounds of discontentment fell from the baby's lips. You brought it back to your chest, its long nails grasping the neck of your dress as it settled.

You stayed like that a moment, blood dripping from your sword against the pale stone before your ears twitched. You'd almost forgotten about the other. The one who threw the stone and called out to rescue you from that sword. There was a shuffling of feet, worn fabric soles shifting against stone and earth. Not just the one set either, it sounded like several sets from one of the over turned caravans.

As slow as you could you flicked the blood from your blade, not missing a sharp intake of breathes. They didn't exhale when you returned your blade to your belt. Carefully you moved your cloak from your shoulders draping the hood over the baby's head and making sure its little body remained covered. You stepped hard on the stone, ensuring your approach would echo out.

"Greetings?" You called out, cringing at your hoarse tone. You'd not spoken a word to anyone since you'd left home in spring save a little song when you were deep in the woods. Now with autumns turn you weren't sure how to make your watchers feel safe. There was no movement from the torn fabric door of the cart, no sounds of their flee either.

"They're alive." You spoke again, clearer this time but again you flushed at your failing words. Staring again into the dark where you could now hear breathing. "Your baby, they're... I'll just place them here then."

You knelt by the caravan as a gust of wind shifted what you now could see was animal skin from the darkness. There you were met with 3 pairs of yellow eyes staring wide out at you. Children. They were all children but all bared fanged teeth out at you.

"It's alright, be at ease." You tried, smoothing your voice the best you could. You moved to pull the baby from you to return them to their kin but tiny nails dug further into the linen of your dress. You looked to the infant brows knitting together at the situation.

"Please little one. To your own." You coaxed, pushing a finger to their palm to release their grip. They protested still grabbing more fabric in their firsts and gumming it in their mouth. You looked back desperately to the orc children.

In turn they'd moved closer to the edge of their sanctuary and now watched you with softer eyes, almost mirthful. The eldest it seemed, or at least the largest of them, moved past the other two. The trees provided more shade here and they pulled a worn hood over their ears. They reached forward with shaking arms and spoke to the infant in words you didn't understand.

It took a moment but they were able to pry the protesting baby from you and pass them back to the other two children. Though you suddenly felt the cold space the baby had been so sorely. It was then the eldest pulled a wicked knife from their layers and pointed it crudely out at you. They spoke but seeing your knit brow they started again.

"Leave us be or i'll gut you!" They demanded now in shaking westron. Close you could see this child was a young orc boy. He'd shed tears recently and the track marks through the grime on his face were stark even against his more mottled skin.

You cast your eyes over them again. Children. They were just children, now alone as their kin burned in the fading light. How could they possibly make it alone? With such a small one in tow as well? You weren't even sure they'd be able to carry the baby themselves not for far at least.

"Do you know what an oath is child." You said. His face scrunched in anger.

"Of course I do!" He huffed, still waving his blade at you. "You swear something, then... then there's blood and..." he seemed paused in thought as he wasn't sure what would come next.

Though the metal of his dagger was ragged it was a clean blade and it looked wickedly sharp. You took his hand despite his protestations and guided it to your palm. He stopped fighting you as you drew the blade across your own skin, biting your cheek against the sting. You held the hand up, palm to the others as you dropped your head.

"You have my word, on my life I mean you no harm. I will deliver you to your kin if that is what you wish." Your voice finally sounded your own again. Certain and strong.

The children seemed to contemplate it a moment in their own tongue before the eldest nodded to you. All at once the sun now hidden behind the horizon the orc-lings poured from out of their shelter. It was hard to tell on ones so young but you think the one with a shock of red fluff atop their head was a girl. The other younger boy had sparse black hair but eyes so deep in their colour they almost looked red in the firelight.

"Where can we find other orcs..." You began.

"Uruk." Three little voices grunted at you in unison.

"Uruk." You returned, testing the word. "Sorry, where can we find more Uruk then. Your kinsmen."

The children weren't much help on the matter, only voicing that they wanted to go to their "lord father". You set them a small fire further from the bodies and set about the caravan. There were no maps but there was food so you brought it to your young traveling companions. There were water skins, that you filled for them and a small cart that must have been dragged along with them. It didn't take too long to have it covered in the caravans skins.

The girl, Tûkâ, and eldest, Thrak, walked alongside you for a time, her small claws poking holes in your torn skirts as she held to them. The smaller boy who'd introduced himself with a flourish as Torz sat inside the cart, cradling the baby. It wasn't long after you'd crossed the river that the other two joined him, though Thrak held out until he'd stumbled into your side.

When light came you drew the skins tight around the cart, only peaking in when you were sure the shadow of the high trees would be enough cover. The baby stirred, crying out and causing you to halt the journey. In shade you stooped low, poking your head into the cart entirely. The baby cried harder still, reaching arms up to you. Thrak passed them up to you, still wrapped in your cloak. The cries continued as you bounced them gently, singing a soft lullaby you remembered your mother singing to you. It helped a little but their tiny face was still screwed up and they were restless in your arms.

"He's hungry." Torz offered, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Will he not eat?" You ask, cooing as he took a finger into his mouth.

"...He's a baby." Thrak frowned, crossing his arms. "He's got no teeth."

You thought a moment before turning your knapsack round your body. You had cooked potatoes you'd taken from the caravan, if you mushed them up in a bowl maybe the baby could eat it then. Thrak watched displeased but his expression softened when you were able to spoon a bit into the babies mouth.

"We must move quickly, I fear for this little one." You sighed. The baby's hands seemed weaker in its grasp than before, loosely curling around your bloodied hand. The reddish skin where they'd been burned seemed to be pealing at the edges and weeping into your cloak. You pealed it back gently before tearing your chemise to make bandages. You hoped they'd help until your could get him to his own.

For the next two days you ran the cart as fast as you could, pushing it as smoothly as possible through the now rolling hills. The raw wound on your hand ached and bled against the rough wood but you had to keep moving. The sun lost its warmth and without your cloak the chill hit you hard. The little ones huddled under the covers of the cart, taking turns with the baby and singing your song to him.

The woods grew back up again, oaks and sycamore dropping a carpet of brilliant leaves matching the children's eyes. When night fell you had to stop, your lungs burning and your legs like lead. Thrak brought you water with and the others curled around your fast cooling body. Their warmth helped block out the icy chill of the night but you could not find rest. Your mind churning in anxieties as you held the baby between your bodies. He was so quiet and though he breathed his skin felt cold.

You set out again a few hours before dawn, Thrak insisting on pushing the cart with Torz after you and Tûkâ. Hope swelled in your breast as you spied the faintest glow over the next hill. When you were sure they'd see it as well you pointed it out to your companions. They seemed weary at first, the memories of men still fresh in mind but soon their ears flicked. You'd heard it too, the gruffer voices speaking in their language.

Without thought you hurried ahead, the boys abandoning the cart and rushing faster to your side. They called out to their Uruk elders in their own tongue as you reached to top of the hill. Bellow you could now see a great score in the earth. A trench leading as far back as the mountains and covered with cloth animal skins to keep the light out.

The Uruk's that approached drew weapons, arrows nocked and aimed at you. The children huddled to your skirts, Thrak moving ahead to shout something to the adults. They paid him no mind, brushing past him as they drew closer.

Fearing for them you passed the baby down to Tûkâ and raised your palms. You were brought to your knees by a jab to your leg, cold mud seeping through your dress. Thrak continued to protest on your behalf as your belt and sword were taken from you and iron shackles were snapped in place.

You were pushed down the hill towards the camps of Uruk by the one you assumed to be their captain. He was mottled skinned like Thrak but with none of the kindness in his eyes. You were pushed down into the trench, falling hard onto the turned over earth. A chorus of cruel laughter broke out as you scrambled back to your feet.

"Better take this one to Adar." The captain growled. He pushed your back with the tip of his blade, forcing you forward. Over your shoulder you spied the children being taken the other way, Thrak still fighting to get back to you.

...

Adar stood alone in a dug out room, running his gauntlet's spiked fingers over the map. By winter they'd reach the Southlands but it would take into Summer before their work would be done. He'd labored for centuries to give his children a home, what was a few more months.

"Lord father." One of his children broke the silence. Adar turned to him, darkening his face when he saw the Elleth. One of his children held her sword in his fist, whilst his scouts captain hit her on the side of the head with his. She groaned dropping to her knees in front of him, her head remaining low as Adar stalked forward.

"Found this one on the border with youngins' Lord Father." his child continued. She remained still on the ground as Adar appraised her. She hardly seemed like a scout herself. Her dress was almost formal though it had seen far better days, now caked in grime and blood. Though its style was all too familiar to him.

"Lembi... What brings an Avari so far from home." Adar rasped watching her stiffen at his words. Her hands clenched a moment before Adar watched her turn them, bloodied palm now resting on her knees. Her eyes turned to his and he was struck by the sight. Even with the mud on her face and on her knees, she looked fierce. A strength in her gaze like the rivers themselves.

"An oath." She said.

[dabiconcordia]

The Garden Year

January brings the snow, Makes our feet and fingers glow. February brings the rain, Thaws the frozen lake again. March brings breezes, loud and shrill, To stir the dancing daffodil. April brings the primrose sweet, Scatters daisies at our feet. May brings flocks of pretty lambs Skipping by their fleecy dams. June brings tulips, lilies, roses, Fills the children's hands with posies. Hot July brings cooling showers, Apricots, and gillyflowers. August brings the sheaves of corn, Then the harvest home is borne. Warm September brings the fruit; Sportsmen then begin to shoot. Fresh October brings the pheasant; Then to gather nuts is pleasant. Dull November brings the blast; Then the leaves are whirling fast. Chill December brings the sleet, Blazing fire, and Christmas treat. by Sara Coleridge

[templeof-demeter]

My Morning Prayer to Demeter

Honored Demeter, rooted in the dark earth,

tender shoots and golden sheaves alike are yours.

Noble goddess, fair-haired provider of reward to those who work the land, trading sweat and toil for fruit and grain, mother of Persephone.

Your will and devotion turn the world, the seasons

Demeter, awe-inspiring goddess, wrathful one, endless one, I pray to you.

Grant me hope in despair, love and loyalty so fierce no foe can best me.

Grant me sufficiency, growth, transformation.

Demeter, bring me though darkness, temper my spirit, show me the joy within the pain, the life within cold soil.

Devotion Prayers to the Gods of the Greeks 3rd edition by Hearthstone

[wytchoftheways]

Lammas Prayer: 🌾🌞

The Corn king gives his life for the land,

We toast his sacrifice with ale in our hand,

And eat the bread, from the harvest made,

As sheaves of corn to the earth are laid.

Transformation surrounds us,

The harvest turned to food and drink,

Now is the time to learn and to think,

Of what we can do to grow even stronger,

As the summer recedes and nights grow longer.

We share our rewards and bless the earth,

That brings our fruitful abundance to birth, May our well-earned bounty reward our toil,

As we harvest the seed and the grain from the soil.

[southerngothhorror]

chapter one

warnings: religious themes, religious imagery, mentions of jaime drinking, everyone’s depressed basically

wordcount: 1,112

Beep. 

               Beep. 

                       Beep.

        It’s nine in the morning on a Saturday. Saturdays are the government’s way of pretending its people aren’t losing part of their lives by working. That’s why I hate them. It’s how we the people believe we are being treated fairly. Of course, my small town embraces that logic. We work and marry when we become eighteen. There ain’t more logic than that here in the South. Now when it came to childhood that was a difficult story. I was raised in the backwoods with my three boy friends alongside me. That was until they got caught stealing and ended up in Cedar Pointe Boarding School For Boys. I tried to reason with the cops, but they didn’t listen a bit to me. Guess they didn’t trust someone like me.

        Eventually, I gave up. I visited them secretly and they still came out during the breaks to hang with me. The last time they were able to fully hang out was when I was shucking the corn and they decided to bring me to the caves to cook fish they had collected from the streams. Now I was stuck here in bed, groaning as my feet hit the floor. My bones ache. My head hurts.

       I change into cargo pants and a hoodie since the weather was colder than usual down here.       

Normally it is warm and humid, the sticky summer weather staying around almost all year round, never stopping. That’s why I’m surprised at the sudden temperature difference. It was a change. Change never was supposed to happen here.

      So why was it happening now? I don’t know that answer as I go down the stairs to the kitchen where my father never goes. You may think calling him *father* is formal but for me, he never was my dad. Dads don’t forget their children like he did to me after my mom ran off. Dads don’t abandon everything about their life. Dads don’t make you want to tear yourself apart at the seams to feel wanted.

     I grab an apple from the counter and go outside to where my bike lies against the side of the house. I get onto the bike before pushing at the pedals with my feet, hands gripping the worn out handles. The breeze feels unimaginably refreshing. That makes me even more worried. 

      Five minutes and I reach the usual fishing spot that everybody’s at. Practically falling off my bike and stumbling a bit, I sit on one of the logs and pull out my still sheaved knife from my belt loop.

      “You know people normally say hi instead of just pulling outta knife.”Jaime says with a smirk, his hand pulling at Magnus’s fingers, almost as if holding off on actually breaking them.

      “Like you don’t immediately go to your daddy’s cellar when we go to your place, rich boy.”I respond back sarcastically with a slight smile of my own.

       “Touché.”

       Silence permeates the air as we sit there. Just me, Benson, Jaime, Magnus, and Jules, the girl that Jaime’s been bringing more recently. 

       Don’t hurt yourself, Tate. You know you can’t fix how things are changing. How the weather is showing it.

      “There was a breeze.”I say, breaking the silence.

      Eyes are on me, gazes fixed onto every breath I took. Every move is analyzed and nothing goes unnoticed. 

       “I don’t know what it is, but it’s not normal. I can’t place it. It’s like it knows I’m watchin’ it and it’s teasin’ me.”I say.

      Nobody says a word. I wish the silence wasn’t there. I wish they talked. I wish they didn’t look at me like that. Pale faces of different types of hurt are looking at me like I brought their worst fear to the table. Tears threaten to spill as my eye sight gets somewhat glassy. 

      I just run. I run as fast as I can. The wind knocks against me, trying to torment me back to where I belong, near my friends. I don’t belong though. I’m insane. I’m never coming home.

      Three miles without my bike shows how stupid I am at times. I’m at my house, throwing things into a backpack. Random flip phone I stole from my dad’s drawer, money, camera, cassette player with a few of my favorite 90s alternative albums on those cassettes. Of course I took a few extra items, but I don’t care to list them. 

       I make sure to not make much noise as I make it out of the house and into my old Ford. Of course, my friends are there, blocking me.

       “Get outta my way,”I manage to choke out without sobbing.

       “We’re not gettin’ outta of your way, Tate.”Magnus says.

       I know it is serious when Magnus speaks. I hate it since now it feels so serious. I want to run. They won’t let me. Why not? I know they want to leave also. Anyone who lives in Cedar Pointe knows that feeling.

       I try to reason with them. Heaven knows I’m miserable now.

       The same feeling of dread washes over me. I wanna know why everything feels like it’s changing. It never felt like this before. It used to be normal and peaceful which meant boring days filled me reading way too many books and exploring different parts of the caves.

        Now I feel like a sinner being forced to confess her sins to the public like the church in this town usually did before punishment ensued. My friends are the judges of my fate who witness the fall of the impure one. I watch all of them with my vision partially still cloudy from the tears. Somehow I can feel their hurt. The hurt that lingers in all of us.

        “It isn’t the fact that you wanna leave. It’s the fact that you wanna leave *us*.”Benson accuses me.

        “Maybe I hate this place.”I say, watching how Jaime’s herding off Jules to not scare her.

        “Maybe you’re scared.”Benson accuses me again, getting in my face like he usually does with his opponents.

        “Maybe I’ll hurt you.”I say.

        I push at him, determined to start a fight. Something stops me midway. The wind is howling as the breeze picks up speed. There’s a storm coming, a real bad one. I grab Benson and Magnus by the arms, bringing them into the house. Jaime and Jules follow, apparently not that far from us. 

        Everything slows down and I can’t grasp reality at that moment. I’m having flashbacks of my life as I run into that cellar that lies beneath the floorboards. It all goes pitch black soon enough.

[scrawdragon]

So, if anyone had happened to pay attention to my blog description or the stuff that I reblog, you’d know that I am very queer and also very Christian. One of my favorite things to do is to tell Bible stories, and I decided— why the hell not, I’ll post ‘em on here! I decided to come to you all today with the story of Joseph, son of Jacob, who was sold by his own brothers into slavery. Very terrible of them. I’m well aware. It happened kinda like this:

Jacob was this old guy in the old testament. He had four wives— Rachel, Bilhah, Leah, and Zilpah— and eleven kids. And out of all of them, wifey Rachel and his sonny Joseph where his favorites. Rachel, his favorite wife, because that was who he WANTED to marry (the others were added onto the list after a whole buncha mess that would take a long time to get into); and Joseph, the son bore by the wife he really loved. Jacob favored Joseph so much that Joseph’s brothers were jealous of him and hated the very grounds Joseph walked on. Jacob even made Joseph a coat- a coat of many colors, as the bible says. It set him apart from his brothers, and it was hated by his siblings.

Joseph was blessed with a talent of being able to interpret dreams. I guess it made up for whatever he lacked in common sense. For example, once he went to his brothers and told him about a dream he had. 

“Hey, guys, I had a weird dream last night,” he said, although it wasn’t very odd to him. He knew what it meant. “We were all out gathering sheaves of grain out in the field, and all the sudden, my sheaf jerked outta my hands and rose upright, and your sheaves all jerked outta your hands, too, and bowed around mine! Isn’t that… Weird?” He gulped, because all the sudden, his brothers looked like they wanted to absolutely murder him. 

“You sayin’ that one day, you’re gonna rule over us?” They growled, because they absolutely wanted to murder him. Joseph had enough sense to keep his trap shut at that and shuffled off.

A while later, Jacob sent Joseph to go get his brothers and bring them home, because they were out in the field, doing farmerly things. They saw Joseph coming in the distance, and they all decided that they were sick of him and his stupid coat, so they plotted to kill him.

“Here comes the dreamer,” one of them said, mockingly. “Let’s just kill him and throw him into one of the dry wells. No one would know about it, and we can just say an animal killed him and ruin that stupid jacket as proof, easy peasy.”

Reuben, the eldest, turned a little pale. See, he hated Joseph himself, but he didn’t want to kill the guy. “Um… How ‘bout we, uh, not kill him? Just throwing that out there.” He said, nervously. “Lets just take the jacket and throw him into the well. Leave him there. Lets not get his blood on our hands.” Well, really, Reuben didn’t want Joseph’s blood on HIS hands. He intended on going back to the well and saving Joseph and leading him back.

A bit later, Joseph approached them.

“Hey, guys!” Joseph said, brightly, as the bloodthirsty figures of his brothers loomed over him. “Dad wants you guys back home, how much longer d’ya think you’ll be- ACK!”

The “ack” being the sound of Joseph’s brothers grabbing him, yanking off his coat, and tossing him into the well. For funnies, imagine that little cartoon sound effect that’s used when a character falls off a cliff. 

They left Joseph there, who was pretty much screaming, begging, pleading, and crying for his brothers to let him out, and went to go eat a meal— excluding Reuben, who was out biding some time before he went to save Joseph. As they were eating, they caught sight of some Ishmaelites passing through. 

“Hey, here’s a thought,” Judah said, his voice thick with food, “How ‘bout we sell him? That way, his blood ain’t on our hands, we’re a couple pieces of silver richer, AND we get rid of him. I mean, he is our own brother. Might as well show a little mercy and sell him into slavery.”

His brothers grunted in agreement, and when they finished, they went back to the well. 

“You came back!” Joseph hiccuped, a bruised, tear-stained and dirty mess, relief settled in his eyes. “I prayed you would! You can have the jacket, if you don’t like it- Huh?”

And then they sold Joseph for twenty pieces of silver.

When Reuben found Joseph wasn’t there, he freaked out. “What am I gonna do now? This is gonna kill Dad!” He stressed, but his brothers had already taken the coat and smeared it with animals blood. When they presented it to Jacob, he thought that Joseph was killed by some animals, and he tore his clothes and went deep into mourning. When his children and many wives tried to comfort him, he refused it. He said that he’d never stop mourning his son until he was dead right along with him.

Meanwhile, the Ishmaelites went and sold Jacob away to Egypt for slavery. To Potiphar, to be exact, who was one of the officials for the Pharaoh.

You can read the story for yourself in Genesis, Chapter 37: verses 1 through 36 in the Bible! :D

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Living His Word

He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him. — Psalm 126:6

Seasons of life can be like the four seasons of the year. For example, winter can represent a cold and dreary period of your life. It's just not the right time to start anything. There's no life anywhere and there's nothing you can do about it yet. Indeed, if you jumped the gun and tried to plant something, it would surely die. Instead, you just have to patiently go through it. The best you can do is get yourself ready for spring when things begin to warm up.

Then it happens. Spring comes and the time is right. It's time to get moving and get things started. It's a good time, a time of promise; however, it is also the time when you have to risk everything. It's not the time of reaping; it's the time of sowing. You have to take from what you have, no matter how little it is, and sow it into the ground. You have to rob the present in order to fund the future. That's why the sower in our verse for today goes out weeping. He's investing a lot in a venture with no guarantee. It takes faith to be a sower.

If that were not enough, you have to wait. There's no immediate reward. There's no return on investment right away. Instead, you must wait for the seeds to sprout and grow. You must go through the summer period of life when all you do is tend to your investment. It's hard work. It's hot outside and the work can be backbreaking, and it drags on for what seems like a lifetime. Would that the summer period of life lasted only a literal summer! Why can't the Lord speed things up? After all, He's God, and He can do anything.

The Lord, of course, has His own timetable as your summer drags on. Nevertheless, seasons don't last forever. They may take longer than we would like, but they always give way to the next one in line. Autumn comes. Your winter, spring, and summer periods of life are finally paying off. You trusted God and took the leap of faith. You invested your very life, and the time has come.

The time has come to reap. The time has come to bring home the sheaves with shouts of joy. Give thanks to the Lord of harvest.

© 2024 by Bible League International

[the-hermit-at-midnight]

Lughnasadh, also known as Lammas, is a Celtic festival marking the beginning of the harvest season. Celebrated on August 1st, it's a time to give thanks for the bounty of the earth and honor the hard work that goes into bringing food to our tables. This ancient festival is steeped in rich history and symbolism, offering a beautiful opportunity to connect with nature and appreciate the fruits of our labor.

History of Lughnasadh

Lughnasadh is named after the Celtic god Lugh, associated with skill, craftsmanship, and the sun. Traditionally, it was believed that Lugh established the festival to honor his foster mother, Tailtiu, who died of exhaustion after clearing the land for agriculture in Ireland. As such, Lughnasad is deeply intertwined with the agricultural cycle and the importance of the harvest.

Symbols of Lughnasadh

Several symbols are associated with this sabbat:

Grain: As the first harvest festival, grain is a prominent symbol, representing abundance and sustenance.

Bread: Baked from the newly harvested grain, bread symbolizes the transformation of nature's bounty into nourishment.

Sun: Representing the life-giving energy that fuels growth and harvest.

Lions: Associated with courage, strength, and leadership, often connected to the sun god.

Colors: Gold, green, and brown reflect the harvest season and the earth.

Celebrating Lughnasadh

There are many ways to celebrate Lughnasadh, both traditionally and in a modern context:

Harvest Feast: Gather with loved ones to enjoy a meal featuring the bounty of the season. Incorporate fresh,locally sourced ingredients into your dishes.

Decorate with Nature: Bring the outdoors in by decorating your home with flowers, wheat sheaves, or corn dollies.

Bake Bread: Create your own loaf of bread as a symbol of abundance and gratitude.

Outdoor Activities: Spend time in nature, hiking, gardening, or simply enjoying the sunshine.

Bonfire: Light a bonfire to symbolize the sun's energy and to ward off evil spirits.

Offerings: Leave offerings of food or drink to the land spirits as a token of appreciation.

Traditional Recipes

While specific recipes may vary, here are some traditional food items often associated with Lughnasadh:

Bread: A staple of any harvest celebration, try making a traditional loaf of bread using whole wheat flour.

Oatcakes: Simple and hearty, oatcakes were a common food for workers in the fields.

Honey Cakes: Sweet treats made with honey, a symbol of abundance and prosperity.

Stews and Soups: Hearty and comforting, these dishes utilize seasonal vegetables and meats.

Lughnasadh is a beautiful opportunity to connect with nature, appreciate the fruits of our labor, and celebrate the cycle of life. Whether you choose to observe the traditions or create your own modern rituals, this special day offers a chance to give thanks for the abundance in your life.

Happy Lughnasadh!

[synnthamonsugar]

50 saveris...?

50. A Kiss . . . out of love

"I've lived a lifetime on the scale of stars, and never have I had a fraction of the contentment I do now," Savathûn mused as she rested along the flowerbeds of the Alluring Curtain. 

"Never?" asked Eris Morn, bared head askew. Atop a garden terrace, she crouched nearly eye-level to Savathûn. "What of Nezarec? When you snatched the veil from our enemy, or trapped Rhulk?"

"You know better than anyone that vengeance brings a different sort of satisfaction … fleeting. Appetizing, without fulfillment, like tithes fed to the insatiable jaws of Ur." She stretched out on the warm grass, unfocused her eyes against the cloudy green-yellow sky. "I do believe contentment is wanting for nothing." 

"No longer do you stake your life in lies, Witch, but I refuse to believe you all the same." 

"After all we've been through, you think I would lie to you?" she burred in mock-affront. 

"I think you would lie to yourself. Wanting has been a part of your nature since you bore the name Sathona. That is not a fire quenched by peace."

"What could I possibly desire, Eris? I'm free from my rattlebrained parasite and the scrutiny of the Witness's groveling errand-boy. No longer must I hide beneath sheaves of letters or the face of your old Vanguard, spinning endless yarns to appeal to your friends –" she leaned in close, eyes glinting, relishing the flame that sparked between Eris' brow. " – or you."

"So you have everything you want already," Eris entertained the Witch's claim, if for no other reason than to find the contradiction that proved her logic instead. "The Light, and a throne world built in it. The disciples, dead. Freedom from the worm-pact. Begrudging compliance of the Vanguard. My presence… my attention…"

"Very good," said Savathûn in praiseful sing-song. 

"But you don't have me." Eris stated flatly, chitinous brow furrowed.

Savathûn threw back her head, laughter clarion-sharp against the soft, low murmur of the garden. "You made your body a shrine to my pursuit, your mind a reliquary of my knowledge! Careful as you were, you let me in, nourished me with your failed attempts to understand . . . and delighted me with your successes. How glad I was to share my tithes; how eager you were to drink them!" Red blossomed beneath rivulets of ichor. "Honey, I couldn't ask for more."

Eris stepped forward, close enough now to sense body heat and Light. "I can."

It was Savathûn's turn to come to an understanding. She tilted her head forward, meeting Eris' lips with the incisal edge of her teeth experimentally. She rested the joint of one clawed finger against her waist, the pad of another touching softly against the bony crests of her head. For Eris' part, she slipped her hands under the chitin that armored her lower jaw, rubbing the soft flesh beneath. She'd witnessed human acts of affection, but partaking was uncharted territory. She thrilled in the alien tenderness, the feeling of skin to bone and Light to Darkness. 

When their mouths finally parted, Eris reached to stroke the orbital of Savathûn's third eye. She closed membranes over them, lulled by her touch. "You let me in, too," Eris whispered coyly. "You imagined who I was, and who I could be. Am I as you pictured?"

"Better."

Savathûn felt the sensation of lips upon the horns that framed her brow and smiled inwardly, no doubt that she had everything and more. 

[hiswordsarekisses]

“When the Lord brought back the captivity of Zion, We were like those who dream. Then our mouth was filled with laughter, And our tongue with singing. Then they said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.” The Lord has done great things for us, And we are glad. Bring back our captivity, O Lord, As the streams in the South. Those who sow in tears Shall reap in joy. He who continually goes forth weeping, Bearing seed for sowing, Shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, Bringing his sheaves with him.” Psalms‬ ‭126‬

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

6th April >> Mass Readings (USA)

Fifth Sunday of Lent (C) - Proper Readings 

(see also Lazarus)

(Liturgical Colour: Violet. Year: C(I))

Fifth Sunday of Lent (C) - Proper Readings 

First Reading Isaiah 43:16–21 See, I am doing something new and I give my people drink.

Thus says the LORD, who opens a way in the sea and a path in the mighty waters, who leads out chariots and horsemen, a powerful army, till they lie prostrate together, never to rise, snuffed out and quenched like a wick. Remember not the events of the past, the things of long ago consider not; see, I am doing something new! Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? In the desert I make a way, in the wasteland, rivers. Wild beasts honor me, jackals and ostriches, for I put water in the desert and rivers in the wasteland for my chosen people to drink, the people whom I formed for myself, that they might announce my praise.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 126:1–2, 2–3, 4–5, 6

R/ The Lord has done great things for us; we are filled with joy.

When the LORD brought back the captives of Zion, we were like men dreaming. Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with rejoicing.

R/ The Lord has done great things for us; we are filled with joy.

Then they said among the nations, “The LORD has done great things for them.” The LORD has done great things for us; we are glad indeed.

R/ The Lord has done great things for us; we are filled with joy.

Restore our fortunes, O LORD, like the torrents in the southern desert. Those that sow in tears shall reap rejoicing.

R/ The Lord has done great things for us; we are filled with joy.

Although they go forth weeping, carrying the seed to be sown, they shall come back rejoicing, carrying their sheaves.

R/ The Lord has done great things for us; we are filled with joy.

Second Reading Philippians 3:8–14 Because of Christ, I consider everything as a loss, being conformed to his death.

Brothers and sisters: I consider everything as a loss because of the supreme good of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have accepted the loss of all things and I consider them so much rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having any righteousness of my own based on the law but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God, depending on faith to know him and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by being conformed to his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead. It is not that I have already taken hold of it or have already attained perfect maturity, but I continue my pursuit in hope that I may possess it, since I have indeed been taken possession of by Christ Jesus. Brothers and sisters, I for my part do not consider myself to have taken possession. Just one thing: forgetting what lies behind but straining forward to what lies ahead, I continue my pursuit toward the goal, the prize of God’s upward calling, in Christ Jesus.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Gospel Acclamation Joel 2:12-13

Even now, says the LORD, return to me with your whole heart; for I am gracious and merciful.

Gospel John 8:1–11 Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.

Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. But early in the morning he arrived again in the temple area, and all the people started coming to him, and he sat down and taught them. Then the scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery and made her stand in the middle. They said to him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. Now in the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?” They said this to test him, so that they could have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and began to write on the ground with his finger. But when they continued asking him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” Again he bent down and wrote on the ground. And in response, they went away one by one, beginning with the elders. So he was left alone with the woman before him. Then Jesus straightened up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She replied, “No one, sir.” Then Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin any more.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

-----------------------------

Fifth Sunday of Lent (C) - Lazarus

(Liturgical Colour: Violet. Year: C(I))

First Reading

Ezekiel 37:12–14

I will put my spirit in you that you may live.

Thus says the LORD God: O my people, I will open your graves and have you rise from them, and bring you back to the land of Israel. Then you shall know that I am the LORD, when I open your graves and have you rise from them, O my people! I will put my spirit in you that you may live, and I will settle you upon your land; thus you shall know that I am the LORD. I have promised, and I will do it, says the LORD.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 130:1–2, 3–4, 5–6, 7–8

R/ With the Lord there is mercy and fullness of redemption.

Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD;

LORD, hear my voice!

Let your ears be attentive

to my voice in supplication.

R/ With the Lord there is mercy and fullness of redemption.

If you, O LORD, mark iniquities,

LORD, who can stand?

But with you is forgiveness,

that you may be revered.

R/ With the Lord there is mercy and fullness of redemption.

I trust in the LORD;

my soul trusts in his word.

More than sentinels wait for the dawn,

let Israel wait for the LORD.

R/ With the Lord there is mercy and fullness of redemption.

For with the LORD is kindness

and with him is plenteous redemption;

and he will redeem Israel

from all their iniquities.

R/ With the Lord there is mercy and fullness of redemption.

Second Reading

Romans 8:8–11

The Spirit of the One who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you.

Brothers and sisters: Those who are in the flesh cannot please God. But you are not in the flesh; on the contrary, you are in the spirit, if only the Spirit of God dwells in you. Whoever does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. But if Christ is in you, although the body is dead because of sin, the spirit is alive because of righteousness. If the Spirit of the One who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, the One who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also, through his Spirit dwelling in you.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Gospel Acclamation

John 11:25a, 26

I am the resurrection and the life, says the Lord;

whoever believes in me will never die.

Gospel

John 11:1–45

I am the resurrection and the life.

Now a man was ill, Lazarus from Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. Mary was the one who had anointed the Lord with perfumed oil and dried his feet with her hair; it was her brother Lazarus who was ill. So the sisters sent word to Jesus saying, “Master, the one you love is ill.” When Jesus heard this he said, “This illness is not to end in death, but is for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So when he heard that he was ill, he remained for two days in the place where he was. Then after this he said to his disciples, “Let us go back to Judea.” The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just trying to stone you, and you want to go back there?” Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours in a day? If one walks during the day, he does not stumble, because he sees the light of this world. But if one walks at night, he stumbles, because the light is not in him.” He said this, and then told them, “Our friend Lazarus is asleep, but I am going to awaken him.” So the disciples said to him, “Master, if he is asleep, he will be saved.” But Jesus was talking about his death, while they thought that he meant ordinary sleep. So then Jesus said to them clearly, “Lazarus has died. And I am glad for you that I was not there, that you may believe. Let us go to him.” So Thomas, called Didymus, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go to die with him.”

When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, only about two miles away. And many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went to meet him; but Mary sat at home. Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise.” Martha said to him, “I know he will rise, in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus told her, “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” She said to him, “Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.”

When she had said this, she went and called her sister Mary secretly, saying, “The teacher is here and is asking for you.” As soon as she heard this, she rose quickly and went to him. For Jesus had not yet come into the village, but was still where Martha had met him. So when the Jews who were with her in the house comforting her saw Mary get up quickly and go out, they followed her, presuming that she was going to the tomb to weep there. When Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping and the Jews who had come with her weeping, he became perturbed and deeply troubled, and said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Sir, come and see.” And Jesus wept. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him.” But some of them said, “Could not the one who opened the eyes of the blind man have done something so that this man would not have died?”

So Jesus, perturbed again, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone lay across it. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the dead man’s sister, said to him, “Lord, by now there will be a stench; he has been dead for four days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believe you will see the glory of God?” So they took away the stone. And Jesus raised his eyes and said, “Father, I thank you for hearing me. I know that you always hear me; but because of the crowd here I have said this, that they may believe that you sent me.” And when he had said this, he cried out in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, tied hand and foot with burial bands, and his face was wrapped in a cloth. So Jesus said to them, “Untie him and let him go.”

Now many of the Jews who had come to Mary and seen what he had done began to believe in him.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[livehorsesartpage]

The prompt is: Liberation.

"When God brought back Zion's captives we lived in a dream;

then our mouths filled with laughter, and our lips with song. Then the nations kept saying, 'What great deeds God has done for them!'

Yes, God did great deeds for us, and we were overjoyed.

Bring back, God, our people from captivity like torrents in the Negeb!

Those who sow in tears sing as they reap.

They went off, went off weeping, carrying the seed. They come back, come back singing, bringing in their sheaves." Psalms Chapter 125.

Made with color markers and finished at January 09 of 2025. (First drawing of the year)

[libidomechanica]

How slow then have wived

A limerick sequence

               1

How slow then have wived. Die if she might vnhappy hath pretious ornaments    shewed all be lou’d by    men-slugs and with with forever, never have fallen: they brooke.

               2

And in some gentle to late to pleasant sun heave heart to go. Thus ending.    I ceases—I recall    this charge nibble the maids till e’en they bear, and then, since they came.

               3

I will once in deeper exquisite, before Natalie’s elysium.    Yet better hyue to graunt    me no more cruell plague of sheaves thee, how your hand. But sorrow’s fall.

               4

No more day and vapours leaves are will. I could not up seas that I a new    Pandora see. ’Er manner,    and his fire. Which you all; let construe womanhood, it mean.

               5

Against sometimes the dawned lip, and, having pleasing so. Such wretches that I    caught else but for many    a thrilling my labyrinthine hair. But in heavy ditty.

               6

The pale lips; she lay in earnest snatched. Last night. Day, whereof I doe praise her    eyes? Singing me too this    old boughs, where trod Apollo’s upward: but ’twas tossed sorely writ.

               7

Is not thy Subject, and heart had been bowl; it moves away. Ought, and oh, her    make, and keep into a    warmed manifold? Gnat, a brere with her harts are but soone abhord.

               8

He spake: o Elenor, weak to her but ioyous day thereof I doe blynd.&With    troubled with buds, and the    furrows thee gracious oyle, I honor rayse. From a sick dove.

               9

That rare a numbers, like a gloomy shadowless it then? Peace and    overshadoweth eternall    blisse. In defiaunce to be kept its skin’s defects proper heaven!

               10

With you thief, althought she walls that in brief. Sweet face bring feet, more prayse. Why should    know by which makes them the    past my day till War’s over the horizon’s vaults. His homeward.

               11

The princely poet. To one could you have heard the thy beauty of the youth    and doth thee sadden heard:    thoughts the world with a lively let thy loue lay the cooler air.

               12

Base subject bounty from woe tell. Thine, like the honor of your causes green    side o’ the dead, the    generous wrong, and loosening. Now while in like the miseryes.

               13

Of o’er-spreading into this colord floor was done murmur my true lovely,    lordly scap’t with those with    a voice, thy beauties grow on her as the hearts away. And me.

               14

True heard a noise of thy selfe her utmost break a twofold truth, her in that    desire of bursting.    My hunting on the sea breath of May, as young were bark will get.

               15

That scorn to the more hollow, from the fault of some pitty neuer in its    love: of parcells make his    own land for whose simple heart bleed. Say one another cologne.

               16

Those who am dumb caves, and the Bow, the worlds gladsome ray: all fetter paine,    and topp, als my budding    years ago. And goods which he space of the heat of all OK.

               17

But by her trust, not what bene slays me. Or how that rage mought mean. For the    worlds pride, or they becomes    the open was so richly dight: while I sought thrise-sad tragedie.

               18

To melting by a hundred doth moue. The surf and, on the roots into each    other, as I’ll say ’tis    under her frowne. Sad and hoary wyth from my sire, to spil.

               19

A noise of grief and sight and liberty! Him whom his temple fayrer    weathery sad bed of loues    stride: the children feel. ’Twas a willow trailed thrust into my dear.

               20

No water, and nothing I saw the hands, to left and be friend, that more in    tender her louely fyre,    that after too. For eftsones Winters wracke, for some divine!

               21

And thaw before my hartblood you’d like those beauties pride dare touch that xylem    thicks apace, a gold chain    of immensity: the charm. And, fair a lightning resting-place.

               22

With black Buick, driven so winged censer teeming; no shrine he hast lost    inferior features, of    her hart-thrill, that this this is my selfe to Sorrow!-Cast, i’ve heart.

               23

No defende, when she sang. For these men of drifting upon the day: and in    her mind and sights, and there    sat in; time, the tale passed, and shook, and I though amorous friend.

               24

Him to The Sage began in all handle you see them dear man, so    subterranean streams, and mock.    For honny. Till dance that it lykewize. Harsh russet of gold.

               25

To us, like arrowes the weeps, and plunder’d and fragrant mew, good as    God hath make a new    Pandora see. ’ Said Margaret stood near the wooing sun hurries them!

               26

The bare walls, his dewelap as lythe, as no dreams again. That greedily    her force must, let’s sing to    her your virtues may you fairest-blossome of deadly arrayd.

               27

Every soul’s sun, the rose hands embrace me kept, like the fancy-sick. Till Pan    and now delight. Care to    a sort of my lyfe wils him in the great broke promising she.

               28

With skill, but come on withal she to woo,—and—Lord knows; hyacinth half so    ill availed? Till that from    all with buds, a fairy phantasies too, but his paleness.

               29

The durefully looking us, a black rock my streams them, that did fly.    Summer’s soul, what time I    held her hand cruelly, the mass of natures which al power blush.

               30

In thy mouth with a shade of houshold flower salesman. For the garden-ground,    and the sweetness his change,    and hospitality, so blind and each other entertaine.

               31

And, like all them. The last year’s bitter smile than whence remove; the gentle birds    in thy soul appalls; I    mock’d me to thraldome ties? I say, like. Not. Ye high-fronted high.

               32

I staru’d: so plead: doe weary. If Pearlesse stone-crop started up, and no    more: then brake out my fixt    heights; once I sate to purchas with the sons passed by any art.

               33

I turned and sea, from off her that he cannot expresse, eternal springeth:    o stone blaze ouerthrow. Something    a tree the love than withal sweetly slumber, and vtter here.

               34

The western sun; coral claspt by a token. Eye-dawn of a brooke, out of    earth too ripe, in reason    or with armes and thence did offend. Landscape, that in her may remoue.

               35

And straight like a dropping snow be whiter strife did soar so pass’d on that. And    wild-ridged mountain pass’d in    deep indeed, locks father, to cheerlesse your greater glories old.

               36

God and lost breathless prise, saw two foes about barber. That is know her owne    powre are mind and worth, I    wote thou then of me, as Rainebowe bent; and tymely fade.

               37

But we see, dearest, here she falling long the life from its more. If anywhere    shall thy might: than our    Peeretree haunt of all exceeds, and knees the yoke, I will would quake.

               38

And with those six books; such a dove tremble: piteous Lilly of my mistress:    a wander’d in Venus    for those lofty be. Such easy chearful to Spirit wander.

               39

It seemd I smelt a garland cresses sake. Whither silk-saft faulds to feelingly    among thence could not    paid the more raisèd up his learn’d no tidings of houshold flower!

               40

And nettles rot and subtitles, fall forth afresh again. That moment me    tell his grief and chearfully,    espy some idly roar, how coming on the little ways.

               41

(Which we shining sun; while thus—Poor Man! And wits. Act thir girls who fared the sun,    o knights to the tann’d harvest.    Out hunger. The water the which in her said, she passion.

               42

She to her arms; but i should the apprehends no killing over hollow    it smoothe, his breathe thick and    gather’s loudly did offence. Yet now with just above my bane.

               43

With music ceased Counsellor; and white! So loytring low in love he is iron    heels: and I been twisted    round my sleepe thou hast but as you, your hands might watch over there.

               44

—I stand of May, as does these hand that God be good deeds deface. Thou a    sympathies all those eyes, O    trees, bespake. My lord’s keep herbage; and all its Difficulties?

               45

Leaving but as you, kind of golden quiuer at his inke, and scorn drew from the    Argonauts, in some gentle    torn. Daisies, vermeil rose interest the dreadfull heale.

               46

And, being harrowd hell is our humbled on by Autumn wild, its will ruin,    answer shone so wan,    clothes well. Caused of her obay, whom ye doe we doubt he is done.

               47

Feast, nor Usury wrung from her stubborn earth toyes, my chain. Julia was changed,    and, carrion Crowes    had beneath thy flame, fit for if these trees and how worthy eye.

               48

So winged bank; and they walks a moment has never can divine converse, into    a puff of smoke like    Ganymede to lead in lusty May! No, but he is no shamed.

               49

Shore, but greeding tooke, twixt the teare, beeing it his eye stedfast in her Cypress    lying, kind is done; and    then to muse on one,—and prized in unquiet place. Thinking our daunce.

               50

Night of gall, is fancy fed with full of tumbling compast countenances    in the same nail, his loue    did begins to pain her arms which light. First breathlesse your own fire.

               51

Most fit deuize, strong; but once enlumind me, saying, This said Blanche at distance,    like before health bright. Walked    with all theyr great the Pen of straw and make my torments, whither.

               52

To decke her eies haue shew. My lord that spicy nest. Self-discours’d upon that.    But then, who lov’st to played,    that thought from that make all would I wed a fair enchantment swept.

               53

Or touch the spred with her so wild self, and thereof when I plead that wouldest    me, being chid! Nor Love—    althought, and through glittering past; to sit with a raucous trill.

               54

No, but a bayt such coles of old, from badde thee doth live. The heavy ditty,    but by men-slugs and there    dead and became more: I wish that with lightsome dainty eares?

               55

Most happy she behold her in this years ago. Which it bore up their comfort    me, since that thine    Original Degree, this heard, looking of that honour of milk.

               56

Kept, as Danae in a mossy stones, till he chose, the breme window’d hearken! And    I are not one who wast    bignes but at you can quantify: each otherwhere and grief.

               57

Behold thyme, and then returned each one love, hatred, joy, or fear, a daughter,    and in chase. His senseless    still shut as thou art and men’s tear all dabbled with greedy fyre.

               58

And fair fallen life, I know what would sit the which loue is quiuer at her painted    stalks, tread my lower    and the grot of garden- bed as if the Tyrannesse of kynd.

               59

Before Thee; from their invocation. Shall I tell—the prince of pure yvory:    and pardon for it.    Doe I not sit This small: what there sweet debt of lips break.

               60

I grant fled; there and humming for to write her will the air, the dew had take    delight, my wrathfull    temptation of his misinterposed; please. They said, he wasted.

               61

Ye trade, and the heap’d o’er-hanging you can, that winter-bound the sheets, I love    of heaven that thy Face    of green sweater with their Jaws bloom, or with what thou, Muse, my dear.

               62

The roses and left us first step. Till hath descry the make a lodging,    and all ill were we stay    of his owlets crystal entry shriek’d aloud. To fold when that.

               63

Wide of flowers it seemed touch’d with gory blood; it grieved, the last to tie? Its    own like a gull pass ere    I rais’d nor confounded, how euer now wild, and hoary, see it.

               64

So doth lurkest lykewise loue himself is blurred. Whence can spel, with fear: but    in glory seemes from    my fit: the nighting her the turning with honour, when I would.

               65

Goodly semblant tree, sacred vestments. Shall light of sticks, the Praises: nothing    me, o fair, so young and    silences. Of a swan, so stand nothing may be refreshment.

               66

But Blanche: and that o’er cloud with the blossome of your battle wings in a breath    not to let the low. And    oh, her wil be thou shalt thou hast but a Vice Lords of light; faint!

               67

That good faithful, and so in hand—Did one hear the pumies latched, and for they    all spred, her very heard.    We broome-flower to the shrunk shuddering hounds of Paradise.

               68

With life a fruit in vaine pleasant hues of natures of her drearily did    lave the mortgage was dizzy    and none may his learned letters, through reeds—in desolate.

               69

Actress’ flame plaste. With essence; till the loves me playe, I cannons loudly make    agreement with which they    lifted off. Now when she end, mingle ballad galleries pride!

               70

The believes me sure, but howso’er fixed in languor speake no womanhood grown    yew tree tops? A great cause?    Steal upon the same. Sort of drifting is all? Of the daisies.

               71

My breath, whose eyelids with the pageants play upon him, raking the lost and    quail, or his race now end,    let it fly that light. The Monk sat down; the lea, and boats are charm.

               72

Through whole from her died away their noses thrice o’er Siberia’s short-lived pressure.    Ye sharp checkes I    hasten now, by turning of other side of my face such poore.

               73

And had the roses seemes to end. For want him to rest of a Vice and    saw an aged nursed hyre:    in close conuert. Like a fire doth in completely puzzled,—what!

               74

Purged airy chance: so happy, it had hurl’d my foolishness and paines, of    owlet pinions to quell,    to beguile: pregnates thee and so innocence beare: and sore.

               75

Which was the brunt so strong, to rain. A wondered in her belly, but therewithal    sweet love faithfull    blooded in ones hands: their moral and climate changes, and ease.

               76

A kingly ’mong which kills me wend in heauen for it. Love the stole into a    sisters, to muse as on    air, the gaps and dead words against the loue learned letters wrath.

               77

And snows my life’s first not thy refulgent that I do ow; and, every more    and merry in each of    his day, wretched up. Her crown of aurorean love be shineth.

               78

For our soul to seeke so well is her fingering love unto us from    your promise twice, dear, dear.    Beat quickly, and that naught in which I vnto your ponder to end.

               79

Lips sweld so full heale. In wise me of so heauen match that three scorn, and man    at her praised, but add, jenny    kissed home, in respects for many a mystery. For all.

               80

And kill, with myself did make and by her them do crave. Ere your Suppliantly:    He said she, that did I    kiss that is such a thumbs- ups, like sometimes delay a traced so.

               81

Thou didst buying to curtain pining cart as a figur’d, and euery day,    that can aslake. And with,    whole solemn tone: but his spotted turf and scorn to goe a short.

               82

The frothy maister two in my so holy and mute, like a poll of the    Knot; and from the hearth: what    excuse my souerayne beguyld. When birds arous’d my eyes were throat.

               83

But cruel; for whom she had joined them mayst might charm the range, time is infidelity?    Hearing not afraid,    and in their lucid wombs: then last of the body heale.

[auntie-coagulant]

"Good night." He doesn't know why he whispers it, why it feels like something that should be hushed and secret, just between the two of them. He feels more than sees Avad move around him towards the stairs, and he's turning to watch before he can stop himself. He knows he shouldn't be staring after Avad like some lovelorn maid from one of those romances his king would steadfastly deny reading but that Erend has definitely seen surreptitiously tucked away amongst the scrolls and sheaves of official business. The thought of Avad devouring tawdry romance stories brings a smile to his face, even as it also brings a tinge of sadness.

[pugzman3]

Psalms chapter 126

1 (A Song of degrees.) When the LORD turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream.

2 Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing: then said they among the heathen, The LORD hath done great things for them.

3 The LORD hath done great things for us; whereof we are glad.

4 Turn again our captivity, O LORD, as the streams in the south.

5 They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.

6 He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.