The Legend of the Lone Wolf

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In the beginning of all things there was only the lone wolf, having been made by the moon and the sun.

He carried our world gently between his teeth, yet there were earthquakes and storms as he wandered our galaxy, running through stars.

He let our world go, setting us in place. And when the Earth settled he  made humans from sticks and some mud.

At first the lone wolf was happy with humans, seeing us playing, enjoying the Earth,

but he saw our hearts turn to darkness some of us ripping the Earth and hurting each other.

He was sorry that he made humans.

He ran away lamenting, howling even.

To this day, if you listen closely

you can even hear him…..

in the wind.

 

Note: Influenced by Native American/First Nations stories

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Solar Wind – Conclusion

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It was her eyes really, that convinced me. Even though I didn’t know her, and she didn’t know me, there was hope in those hazel eyes.

And she had done the research, checked me out on every software ever made….I figured she did kind of care about me,

even though for me it was all new….. something told me I needed to get on that flight, the last one leaving Earth.

Within seconds I put all my grieving aside, and yelled, “Let’s go!” We jumped up, joined hands, ran for the gate, and the doors of the shuttle…..

just as the glass of the airport bay began exploding……

It was the best decision I’ve ever made.

Narrator: This couple did get to know each and are doing very well on the new planet Beryl.

It is 5 times the size of Earth with only a few thousand people. It is a little colder, somewhat like Norway.

Writing and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Note: This is fiction.

Solar Wind

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The solar wind continued to pound and rattle the triple pane glass. Inside there was chaos as people raced in every direction, watching the sky shift and break up, feeling the weight of the wind pressing in on them.

The two of them continued their meal quietly, and she stabbed another piece of broccoli. This time there was more anger in her voice, looking me square in the eyes she said,

“You realize of course the last shuttle leaves in seven minutes……(looking at the clock on the wall) actually six minutes and fifty seconds now?” “And the nuclear wave in ten?”

I nodded silently. And yet I hesitated…….we had only met each other, 15 minutes ago…..

to be continued tomorrow.

Writing and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Note: This is fiction.

Living the Story

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In the shadows of forest, of flickering light through the canopy above, so many stories are born and run their course,

run through my veins where swordkeepers dwell, speaking of wisdom and peace, with kings and queens worthy,

and still others tell of the Spirit Bow speaking, or the Sacred Javelin lost, and then found. How light is bent

or of buckskin and the tribes restored within their spirits coming back and bison running free, as the river……

A writer alone

in the forest…..

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

He Surrendered His Dragon

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He surrendered his dragon as the huge beast bowed at her feet. Her long brown hair flowed behind her

and down her her long white gown trailing in the wind. But she was far from a damsel in distress. A true warrior,

her royalty was the strength of nations. As she gently laid down her shield, she knew he was worthy.

He dismounted and his first line was, “Love does give us the strength……and the courage……to find who we truly are.”

And so it all began….

      

Writing and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Note: Did you know I write fiction too?

Ghosts Often Keep Silent

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In the mist, in the density of fog, ghosts often keep silent

taking away even the joy

of birds chirping

preferring a silent forest,

yet keeping their presence

their shadows as they

blip

in and out, waiting

saving the scare

for tourists with too much cologne

and clean,

expensive tennis shoes.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

75 Arrows

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He shifted slightly in the saddle, letting go gently of the reigns, they both stood there and breathed in the view from the top of the ridge. In his peace, he realized it didn’t matter now.

Even if the government fell tonight, and democracy was swept away, he would still have one of the best trail horses ever made. He loved his Quarter Horse/Belgian mare. And he had his compound bow, but only 75 arrows until he learned how to make his own.

He dismounted and led the mare to the stream. Soon even people would be able to drink from the rivers again, having been cleansed. He was a little uneasy though, about carrying the bow wherever he went. What was it the pastor had said?

“Sometimes we hold onto our weapons, not willing to accept the new being made…..” Yep that was it……he was unwilling to accept the ruins and the new was having a difficult time breaking in. Maybe he just needed more time.

As the mare drank deeply, a noise to his right caught his attention. He swung around the bow, and his right hand instinctively reached back to the quiver……he wondered if the deer knew he was hunting…..

from the Apocalyptic Journal

     

Writing and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies