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© C. m ART z 2015
“No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings”
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Photograph Source Unknown
The sounds of the old floor boards in the house creaked; as he stealthily walked to the cellar where the eerie sounds came from.
It was a old farm house with the dilapidated unused, side porch in view of our kitchen. The weed overgrowth was tangled and the vines grew uncontrollably up the sides.
We entered the house from the summer kitchen on the other side. The front entrance was in bad shape. The front door was for the most part unhinged and the porch was missing wooden planks.The winding wooden stairway from the front entrance was unstable, but sliding down the banisters was a great past time.
My sisters and I laid in our beds and watched his shadow and the gun he carried in his hands.
Earlier that evening we watched as he sit at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, depressed, thinking of the tribulations he endured in World War 11. A small glass of wine was in front of him.
He did not drink…something was different.
The house we lived in was huge. In the winter’s the entire bottom floor was seldom used to conserve heat.
On many occasions we witnessed various entities, visitors from another realm. Doors opening, lights flickering and apparitions of persons in flowing white robes.
The gunshot rang out in the silence of the night.
Our minds went haywire thinking of different scenario’s. The after effects.
He had entered the cellar and found where the sound was coming from. The discharge of the gun frightened us. We pulled the covers over our heads and waited, shivering in fear.
What ever it was, no longer existed. Perhaps a squirrel or other rodent that had gotten stuck in the cramped floor boards.
Maybe, it was something else.
Years later the home was renovated and made into apartments. The visitors never left.
They were home.
in Key West
Look of Love (Minnie and Shy)
Cuban Boat Sits in the Sun
Sun Lit Reflections
I really should have been involved in Investigative Journalism. I seem to be able to sort and find hidden things.
I am intrigued at the moment with the In Session trial of Jodi Arias. Many similarities to Casey Anthony.
This came to me today in a message:
From Source Links found here
Now it is time to focus on going deeper into knowing.
Look to share what you’ve learned in a way that encourages growth in others.
You may find the truth becoming oddly important and find yourself compelled to be bluntly honest.
Your intuition will heighten, or at least your awareness of intuitive insights.
Whole book loads of information could be downloaded into your consciousness now.
Suddenly you just know things- you may not be able to prove how you know them, you just do. “Something is happening here. What it is ain’t exactly clear”.
Be honest in your communications. This authenticity is what creates trust, and trust is something you can have if you open your heart.
Take emotional risks and while you heal your world you make it easier for others to heal theirs- no effort goes wasted Scorpio.
Stand tall in your power.
The new you is learning to live a life without secrets.
Surrounding yourself with people you don’t need to hide from.
The phoenix rising from the ashes is one of your symbols, along with the scorpion and the Eagle.
You are no stranger to the dark side of life.
You are drawn to the crises points as this is where true growth occurs.
Associated with sexual energy, Scorpio loves to get Involved, going down deeper, coming up dirtier, and laying bare anything that lies hidden there.
Persons may think I am bored, not boring mind you…I am far from it.
I have my amazing thoughts, memories and creativeness whirling in my brain
I have had the fever and furious lovemaking, the lies, the betrayal, complicated maze
Nights of undeniable bliss
I have witnessed many a azure sky with winking stars and mysterious neighboring mists
In too many cities wandering and erratic in-between the twilight shadows
My journals speak of days and nights
sometimes blended as one
Kaleidoscopic pictures of the Maze in fragmentary facts
Raised on religious rhetoric
Isolated and Detached
Waiting for a END that never came
Disillusioned youth, fractured family
I have no interest in babbling gossip
He said, she said, they said, who cares
But seriously speaking, what is the use of it?
Ex friends that remind me of sandpaper
with there critical judgment, vigorous invective
They rub the wrong way
No time for the maddening monotony
by Cynthia Martz