Utterances of a Weary Soul

The life that was so preciously mine lay at my feet, for awhile, and quelled my aching thoughts as the branches of my thinking extended towards the stars. And all together anon I found myself breathing and gasping, but feeling filled with every sip of midnight, dew-filled air. The moonlight was irascible that night, and chilled me to the bone though all else was utterly balmy , with a slight breeze. And as I looked up towards the sky, a million eyes winking and blinking and carrying on in my general direction took me aback and made me blush. I live vicariously through these little anti-ink dots, and altogether I am both chilled and warmed by their presence. And I’m certain I chill and warm them, all the same. And what a wonderful life that leads to, when the mind’s own eye can do the speaking so that, longwinded as it may be, not a single thought is miscalculated or tactless.

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Stories From Honduras

Lena Kvigne // Missionary

The Wandering Poet

Footsteps, Footprints and Words

The Holly Tree Tales

Stories and philosophy, borne out of my own experiences of life on three continents.

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