Cynthia A. Morgan's Blog, page 99

The Time Capsule- #thoughts on #love #life and #time

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Love Blossoms

Touches

Reaches

And Transforms Forever

The Heart that Opens To Its Tenderness.

I wrote those words when I was a senior in high school, filled with hope, expectancy, and the clairvoyance of youth.

Back then, I used to carry a tablet around with me from class to class in which I would jot down snippets of songs, (duran duran and dépêche mode, mostly, with some Sammy Harris thrown in for good measure) scribble fragments of poems, or draw elaborate patterns out of the initials of some fleeting fancy. When one tablet filled up, I would start another, filling it to bursting with the musings and, often, the ‘confusings’ of my mind….and thus my blogging career began, long before I knew the word, long before there was such a word.

By the time I graduated I had filled four tablets, each containing 120 pages of memories, hopes, dreams, rhymes, reasons, treasons, and insignificant “doodles”. I saved them for a while where I could pull them out from time to time and reminisce, but after a year or so they ended up in a box in the cellar, locked away, secret, a time capsule treasure trove awaiting rediscovery.

Warp ahead several years (never mind how many!). As time and light bend around us, pulsing in the intergalactic void of the wormhole, we hear sounds from other times in my life, which we are passing along the way. Laughter, Crying, Shouting, Singing, Slurring (just occasionally!), Whispering; vestiges of the passage of time and the journey into knowledge and awareness that have ultimately brought me (and us) to this day.

When the spinning stops (no, I swear we didn’t have any vodka along the way…) you will find me in a small room filled with boxes, where I am overturning years upon years in search of words. (Un-poetically phrased, I am looking through a box of memorabilia and memoirs for a few things I’ve written that I want to share, but the latter sounds so much more enticing, doesn’t it?) Suddenly I stop and a broad smile curves my lips. I laugh, although no one is there except me (well, and you of course) and nothing funny has been said. I had forgotten, but here they are, all four tablets, still intact: 480 pages (give or take a few that the dog, cat or ferret may have eaten!) of a bygone moment in time.

Most of the next hour is spent turning pages, remembering, (or not) hearing old songs, smiling about lost loves, and raising a skeptical (or shocked) brow now and again. Ah the brashness and rashness of Youth! All the things I wanted to do, hoped I’d have, places I dreamed I would go, people I longed to meet; locked away in a prison of pages and ruled lines, trapped and disregarded. Then I stumble upon the poem (above) and I stop, amazed. NICE! I think to myself, I DON’T REMEMBER WRITING THAT. But OH how true it is.

Love Blossoms In the Heart, Mind, Body, Soul.

Love Reaches into you, finding that place you’ve forgotten or ignored for far too long.

Love Touches the place that is lonely, hurting, lost, sorry, sad, angry, guilty, fearful.

Love Transforms Forever in a gentle, unforced, patient manner; only when you are ready for it and only when the time is perfect for it to happen.

The Heart that Opens to Its Tenderness; opening like a time capsule filled with memories just waiting to be rediscovered.

~Morgan~

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Lovely image by : http://www.erasofelegance.com

The Lush Hush, – #poetry of the #naturalworld

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Still

Calm

Sweet Hush

Lilting

Singing

Soft and Lush

Whispers

Singing

True and Clear

Memory

Reaching

When

We Hear

The Still

Calm

Sweet Hush

Whispering

Reminding

Delicate and Lush

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~Morgan ~

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Beautiful original photography found on Pinterest. Credit Gratefully Acknowledged to the original photographer. Thank you ~

Reassurances Come- #poetry of #spirituality and #mindfulness

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Reassurances Come

When I am not even Thinking,

Keeping me Focused

When My Heart is sinking.

Whispers Come softly

While I am still Sleeping,

Straightening my tread

On the Course I am Keeping.

Smiles Rain down

From the Heaven’s Above,

Reminding me Always

Of Unconditional Love.

Joy in the Journey,

The Lesson I’m Learning,

Walking Beside me, You

Keep me from Turning.

Yet, when I do Stray

From the Path Leading Home,

And when Doubts fill my mind,

Reassurances Come.

~Morgan~

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Beautiful Photograph found on Google Image Search

Karina Bartow- An #Author who Challenges her #Challenges!

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I would love for you to meeet Karina Bartow who grew up and still lives in Northern Ohio.  Though born with Cerebral Palsy, she’s never allowed her disability to define her.  Rather, she’s used her experiences to breathe life into characters who have physical limitations, but like her, are determined not to let them stand in the way of the life they want.  Her debut novel, Husband in Hiding, came out in 2015 and was well-received by readers.  Her second, Forgetting My Way Back to You, was released in October 2018 by Vinspire Publishing and has been praised by reviewers.  She may only be able to type with one hand, but she writes with her whole heart and I hope you will enjoy learning more about her and her books as much as I did when she recently contacted me.

HI Karina

One Fate- #Love #Poetry of #Soulmates

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Plighted before the worlds began,

Before I became Woman,

Before You became Man.

Sharing One Breath, Accord Incarnate;

Breathing Together,

Our Inseparable Fate.

Created as One, by birth Divided,

Always Seeking the Other,

Our Destiny Guided.

Living without You, OH Loneliest state;

Reunification

Our Unalterable Fate.

Changeless as the Eternal Sea

I, Longing for You;

You, Longing for me.

Wordless Perfection, Sweetest Soul Mate,

Each breath bringing Closer

Our Inexorable Fate.

~Morgan~

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Beautiful Artwork courtesy of : http://www.lightascension.com

Angel of Mercy #Preview of a #FantasyCharacter

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As a result of the recent poll I took on WP, as well as Facebook, I was finally able to dress my main character from Angel of Mercy.

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The uniform Lévesque had given him was that of a regimental officer made of black leather that did not immediately impress, particularly when folded up lying upon a blood-stained table.  The black leather pants were snug, trimmed with gold embroidery and dressed by a triplet of golden buttons embossed with the Eminent Protectorate’s seal on either side of this trim just below the hip.  The snug-fitting coat was also embroidered with golden trim, set off smartly by a double row of similar golden buttons that ran along the outside length of the coat and collar. Individual straps of black leather closed the coat by crossing the front of it from one button to the other, while epaulettes, which also bore the EP seal and looping golden fringes, were set off by two golden cords ornamentally draping the neckline.

Black leather boots with lacings and a wide leather belt completed the ensemble and after putting everything on, he walked with a purposeful stride to the small dais upon which Jshunamir was displayed.  Taking up his own baldric of soft gray leather, the only thing that remained from what he had been wearing on the day he encountered Lévesque, he cinched it loosely round his hips and picked up his sword.  Unstained and untarnished, though it had not been cleaned, it glittered as beautifully as it did on the day it was forged; it’s inlaid runes glimmering with a silvery light all their own. Sheathing it, he turned back toward the table, noticing Lourdes at last who stood watching him with an unguarded stare.

Smiling subtly, he met her gaze, the deep lavender of his eyes searching hers, but she closed her and looked down at the bundle she carried, clearly unable to express herself.  Crossing the floor with an unhurried stride, he looked down at himself and then back to her with an openly curious expression.

“Does it suit me? I think it’s a bit,” he paused, seeking the correct word, but she finished his sentence for him, her tone openly approving.

“Magnificent.”

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Tzadkiel is the Archangel of Mercy, sent to earth in the 4th era after the first of the Four Horsemen have ridden. He is looking for one human among those who remain who still understands Mercy.  He’s been looking for nearly 100 years, but he’s finally found her…a young servant named Lourdes.

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Just a taste of the work in progress….

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original Artwork by aenaluck

Under Construction- #poetry for #DailyMeditations

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You may see me, day to day;

Laughing, Joking, hard at work

And Play.

You may see me, night after night;

Sitting, reading, a single candle

My Light.

You may watch me, week after week;

Managing to get by, while The Truth

I seek.

You may Ignore me, year after year;

Never knowing my Beauty because of

Your Fear.

Yet, if you look closely, it’s a simple deduction;

I live this Abundantly,

Under Construction.

~Morgan~

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Photography by me

Input Requested – #MainCharacter Polll

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I’m looking for a bit of fun input. My main character in Angel of Mercy needs to wear a military uniform during a portion of the story. It’s 400 years in the future and I’m going for a goth military look.  Oh, and just for clarity, in the story his wings are not visible.

I’ve narrowed it down to these. Which one do you like best?

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Thanks !

~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original Artwork by aenaluck

I Miss You – #love #poetry

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I miss You

Although we haven’t met,

Yet.

Still, we are One,

United before Time

To Rhyme.

~Morgan~

Beautiful artwork courtesy of : anotefromjenny.com

The Request – #ShortStories for #Meditation and #Devotions

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There was a small village, smack in the middle of nowhere. While the rest of the world updated their Facebook pages, Tweeted, LinkedIn, texted, posted, and multi-tasked at a pace even Data from the Enterprise would find impressive, this tiny island of inhabitation, cohabitation and harmony went on in blissful serenity. Isolated from the modern economy by miles of wilderness and separated from the modern culture of Want, Avarice, Greed, and Self-Promotion, this community set its standards for excellence by different measures.

Led by a Chief who was the most honorable of men, who was just and merciful, caring and compassionate, yet strict in his moral code, the people of the village lived in a collective accord with each other and with nature. They shared their wealth, as well as their poverty, equally; they worked together for the prosperity of all and, when needs arose outside their sphere of influence they would make appeals to their Chief to provide for them.

One day a young man, who was recently married and whose wife was with child, came to the Chief with a request of pressing urgency. Sitting down at the fire with this young man, the Chief listened carefully to his concerns without interruption, his kindly expression filled with understanding and patience. The young man, however, was fretful, distracted, impatient and tense, and repeatedly rose from his place at the fire to pace around the room or go to the door and stare anxiously outward, his emotions ruling his thoughts and logic.

It was not a simple request he was making. What he needed was not something to be found within the limits of the village and the price of collecting it was costly. Nevertheless, the Chief listened, understood, and assured the young man he would work diligently on acquiring the item, regardless of how long it took. He asked the young man to wait until he sent word to him that he had what it was he asked for and could come back to get it. Agitated and unappeased, the young man went away.

The following week the young man returned. His countenance was shaken; his nerves were frazzled. He asked the Chief all over again for the item, repeating much of what he had already said, never giving the Chief a moment to assure him that the process of acquisition was already taking place and it would not be long until it would be shipped to the village. Overwrought by worry, the young man begged insistently, growing angry when the Chief tried to explain the simple fact that, although the man’s request had been heard, it was still being worked on; the young man would have to wait just a bit longer.

Another week passed and no message came from the Chief to tell the young man the item had arrived. Thoroughly vexed, the young man decided to set out on his own for the towns, miles away through savage wilderness, with little money in his pocket. He did not know how he would attain the item he needed, but he carried with him a blade that would protect him from harm as well as convince those who sold the item of his urgent need. He left his home, his wife, his unborn child, his village and his chief.

The very next day word came to his hut that the Chief requested him to come to his tent at the center of the village. The item of his desire had finally arrived; the Chief had worked tirelessly, night and day, to raise funds so it could be purchased, packaged carefully, shipped and he now stood with the delicate, beautiful treasure in his hands, awaiting the young man’s arrival so he could give it to him and they could celebrate together.

The young man, however, did not come. He was lost in the wilderness, miles away, and did not know that the answer to his prayers was waiting for him and that all he had to do was come and receive it.

 

 

~Morgan~

Beautiful artwork courtesy of: http://www.themothersprayer.com