POEM, POETRY, Relationships, soulmate, WRITING

No Roses 🌹

I want no red roses, romance or vapid poetry. Perfume, gifts and jewellery, these things are not for me.

Put no rings upon my fingers, nor chains around my soul.

Bring me the dark heart of night, an Adepts power & passion’s flame burning bright within a pure white Lily flower.

Take me by the hand and walk along moonlit shores at the ebb tide of the sea, lay upon the shifting sands of time and bare your soul to me.

Then under a canopy of stars love me endlessly.

Eily Nash~2019

POETRY

To The Summer Sky

I am hugely honoured and excited to share with my readers the work of modern Poet, Stefan Fountouris . This beautiful man writes words of love deeply from his heart and in doing so touches other hearts, minds and speaks to Souls. His muse is the beautiful and enigmatic Edi. What a perfect gift of Love to be immortalised in poetry

 

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To the summer sky

I sang from

Eclipsing stone circle

I sang to the stars

To the moon

Until the sky darkened

Too soon and every

Star stood in clear lines

I stood in awe

Counting the lights

When love came

To me lifting me high

Into the night sky

Like a butterfly….

© Stefan Fountouris Every Emotion Poetry (2019)

 

You can find and follow Every Emotion Poetry on Twitter @everyemotionP1 💕✨💕✨💕

 

 

Dark Verse, FICTION & POETRY

Wrap Me In Your Storm

My favourite vocal Artist, the sexy and sultry Chanteuse, Penny from Penny’s Scar is also an accomplished poet. I am privileged she has let Edendene Books host her work. Enjoy 🌹🖤

 

 

 

 

 

*You can listen to a vast collection of magical and mysterious songs by Penny’s Scar on Soundclick for free*

 

~And Follow Penny on Twitter on her official site~

 

 

 

LOVE, POETRY, Uncategorized

Asphalt Puddle

It is my absolute pleasure to welcome back to EdenDene Books one of my favourite Artists, the beautiful and talented Penny from Penny’s Scar. Her voice transports me to a special place, her vocals are sultry, soft, sexy and lush.Her songs, deep, meaningful, mysterious and touch both heart and soul. Listen for yourself and hear and feel the magic that is Penny’s Scar.

 
 
 
 
Lyrics ~
 
 
Kiss the shadow in the darkness
Paint the sky with rain
I never needed you to love me
Love only causes pain
I don’t know about your magic
Seems it’s gonna fade
Tumbling now through the heartless
Faces changing in front of me
Drowning in this asphalt puddle
There’s waves of smoke from all from all the steam
Break the sorrow of contemplation
Wrap me in the truth
I never needed you to love me
I never needed you
So now I wander aimlessly
I’m guided by the moon
Tumbling now through the heartless
Faces changing in front of me
Drowning in this asphalt puddle
There’s waves of smoke from all from all the steam
I will kiss tomorrow like I kissed yesterday
Hide my heart from the world outside
Keep it under lock and key
I dangle here for you
I’m dangling
Tumbling now through the heartless
Faces changing in front of me
Drowning in this asphalt puddle
There’s waves of smoke from all from all the steam
I never needed you
I never needed you to love me
I never needed you
I never needed you to love me
Tumbling now through the heartless
Faces changing in front of me
Drowning in this asphalt puddle
There’s waves of smoke from all from all the steam
I never needed you
I never needed you to love me
I never needed you
I never needed you to love me
I never needed you
 
Words/music

Penny’s Scar © 2019

 
 
 

    *You can follow Penny on Twitter for all her songs and poetry *

FICTION & POETRY, SOUL, SPIRITUALITY, Uncategorized, WRITING

Beautiful Soul

Thinking of some beautiful souls I know…

 

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You bring a gift to the Earth

The song of your eternal soul

Sings magic words of power

Beauty’s cleansing shower

Washing away pain & debris

Torn psyches healed & whole

Spirits soar freed from captivity

Dancing in the Light of rebirth

 

~Eily Nash (2019)

 

 

FICTION & POETRY, POETRY, SPIRITUALITY, True Life, Uncategorized

The Ballad Of The Magical Music Man

burning wood above rocks
Photo by Вадим on Pexels.com

“He’s in you, He’s in me…The gentle breeze rustling through the trees and sun kissed rain falling upon storm tossed seas”

The open road can be very long when you are weary and have travelled way too far with a heavy burden of baggage of life slung on your back. I see by your eyes you are tired and alone, so come join me, sit down. Warm your bones by my fire. Kick back, rest for a while. Hear me strum my guitar, we’ll serenade the night by the light of the moon and soft starlight. I can offer you to sup the fruit of the vine, some elderflower wine, maybe a drop of Moonshine, or Dandelion beer? Whatever your choice, a cup of good cheer.

sunset sun silhouette orange
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

In the words of my song, there’s a tale to be told, my story is not new but a ballad of old. You see I have walked this path for many a year and many a traveller has  greedy an ear to sit down and share good food sizzling on the pan and hear the music retell the ‘Ballad of the Magical Music Man’.

He was the stranger I met outside my tent, just like you, when my soul was rent and this old heart heart has been broken in two. Chanced upon me singing the blues for those feeling old, battle worn and ravaged by time, strumming their stories in words and in rhyme.

He sat down beside me, kicked off his travelling boots and warmed his toes by the fire. I noticed the flames grew brighter and quite a bit higher. I saw the smile in his eyes, they laughed at it all, the highs and the lows, just how we can fall and how we can soar. Take flight, feeling fear like a Doe or face the good fight with a Lion’s roar.

“Met them all, without judgement”… he said, “those fizzing with life and the walking dead! Saw deep in their hearts and souls, secrets long buried, so easily read.”

The Magical Music man? I asked where was he from? He grabbed a banjo and just started to strum. Asked where he was heading? His cobalt eyes looked to a star strewn sky, “How’s that for bedding?!'”Came his enigmatic reply.

The tales he could tell brought laughter and tears. Taught you enjoy your life and face your fears. He’d easily pick up and play many a tune on a tin whistle, a flute lute or lyre. By the light of moon and fading camp fire. He’d make a Mandolin sing with plaintive desire. Told me he’d climbed the Himalayas, played both Bowls and Tingsha in Tibetan Temples on the roof of the World and the Banjo in the mountains of Appalachia. Said he’d sat with Siddhas at the banks of the Ganges and strummed a Sitar, then crossed the Mississippi to Memphis with his guitar. There was not a sight he had not seen, nor a place he had not been.

He was a Wizard, a Seer, both Mage and the Sage. He was an innocent child, and as old as time, a conundrum, paradox and rhyme. The soft, mountain stream, the sun on your face. He understood the rage of righteous might and black bayou’s in the dark heart of night. A gift of Grace and not of this time or this place.

When he left, I was a better man for him finding me when I had lost my way, pray one day he finds you too. The Magical Music Man, he’ll see right through you and set you straight on the path that is meant to be. No hiding, no defence or false pretence.

It’s no surprise he gave no name, without sin, without blame, the Magical Music Man? An Angel in disguise. A guiding Light through life’s dark night, illuminating God in  you and God in me…

The gentle breeze and the storm tossed seas.

abstract background beach color
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

©Eily Nash -2019

For Peter Cabot-My Guiding Light, Always ✨

Dark Verse, FICTION & POETRY, GOTHIC, LOVE, POEM, POETRY, Uncategorized, WRITING & BLOGGING

Strange Love

When the pain became too much to bear,

He banished her to the dark recesses of his mind.

By being viciously unkind he could pretend to himself he didn’t care.

But she knew, and let him be, for such was their strange love. 

 

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Image:Pixbay

 

Eily Nash

POEM, POETRY, Uncategorized, WRITING & BLOGGING

The Precipice

Beautiful image: Pixabay.com

The precipice, a perilous place, far beyond the safe confines of the city walls and the hinterlands of right and wrong.

Inexorably pulled to the edge of decision, Chase stood hypnotised by angry crashing waves, pounding heart beats upon a lonely shore.

Far out to sea, he heard her call. Siren. Temptress. One leap forward into the unknown, falling, tumbling into her dark depths and he would be free to ride upon passion’s tumultuous waves.

Or one step back from the beckoning, beguiling edge of danger…one step back into the barren wastelands of his life.

Eily Nash ~2019

POEM, POETRY, Uncategorized, WRITING & BLOGGING

Rose from a Lover

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Black Rose courtesy of my talented son Ryan Nash

 

 

My true love gave to me a rose.

Intoxicated by the sweetness of its scent 

I did not feel the thorns ripping my flesh,

Until my soul fled…

Leaving my wounded heart to bleed.

 

 

 

© Eily Nash

LOVE, POEM, POETRY, Uncategorized

Fireflies and Faraway Eyes

He was a Hero, battle scarred and worn.

Heart frozen in the hinterlands of winter.

Feelings imprisoned under lock and key

Eyes unable to leave behind sights unseen

Inside, the silent scream trapped in his mind

Tainted by filthy dirt and detritus of mankind

A fallen Angel, broken wings ravaged and torn.

Until he met her, the girl with faraway eyes.

Her smile held the promise of Summer days

Beguiled by beauty, trusting in innocent love

He stepped from the darkness into her Light

Intrigued by the mysteries of night, he followed

Golden fireflies into the heart of her forest

They danced, sang and drank sacred wine

By firelight they lay beneath a Harvest moon

Earth and Sky became one in Hieros Gamos

He arose from the forest floor, a fallen Angel

Sanctified, restored by Grace, soared once more

Image from Pixabay.com

~Eily Nash 2019

LOVE, POEM, POETRY

Moonbeam

Image:Pixabay

As the moon pulls the tides of the seas and the oceans, do you feel me, my love, coming to you as warm waves washing upon the shores of your dreams?

I bring to you unspoken driftwood gifts of love, trust and eternal devotion for you to find upon the shifting sands of your lonely shore.

Do you feel the essence of me, playing softly on your skin, dancing and delighting in you, my touch silken as a soft moonbeam.

And in your waking hours will you remember fragments of a fragrant dream, where we danced on water beneath a Lovers moon?

~Eily Nash 2019

PARANORMAL FICTION, SPIRIT, SPIRITUALITY, Supernatural, Uncategorized

Dancing in the Light of Love ✨

 

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Image by Kristendawn from Pixabay

DANCING THE LIGHT OF LOVE

Phaedra lay half enveloped in the cold snow. Her body was becoming numb, her mind still. A deep peace came over her. The fear and panic of free falling through the air, the sheer horror of realising he had thrown her bodily from the bedroom subsided. Help was coming, was it not?

She had heard the wail of the ambulance; she would be safe in hospital. Disjointed sounds and fragmented voices swam in and out of her awareness, a vague sensation of being lifted, moving at speed, flashing lights, sirens whining. Then the people crowded over her, machines bleeping, monitors, pipes, tubes fixed to her body, aware of it all but not engaged in any of it. The circle of masked faces staring down at her, the bright light glaring, something over her mouth, a voice counting down,‘3, 2, 1  and, yes, she’s under.’

A rapid pulling and a sensation of release as she felt her consciousness detached from the broken body on the operating table. Detached from the drama unfolding in the sterile and white Theatre, she was aware of floating and looking down on the scene unfolding, watching events as through a curtain of gauze, the intensity and urgency of the doctors gathered around the body, her body, barely clinging to life, as the machines whirred into action. She wanted to shout out and tell them it was all right, she was free. The voice of authority cutting through the intensity of the scene,‘She’s going into arrest, stand clear!’

An intense pulsing flash as the volts from the defibrillator surged through her body, and as her body convulsed she saw a tunnel of pure white light, so clear and bright, pure like the driven snow and the light began crystallising and refracting a myriad of rainbow colours. Her awareness left the emergency room and focussed on the intensity of the light, which began to envelope her. In the midst of the light, the outline of a man began to materialise, his hand outstretched in welcome, calling her name, beckoning…

Phaedra became aware of her hand, stretching out to meet his, and her eyes connected with his deep cobalt blue stare and a feeling of joy as recognition of the man began sweeping over her. As their fingers touched, there was a charge of electricity, little blue sparks of light and then a tremendous noise like a sort of sonic rush and they were gone out of the white light and travelling at huge velocity along a tunnel of oscillating multi coloured stars.

Then they were there, but ‘there’ was nowhere whilst paradoxically being everywhere, and there they were but they were not. A realization of being without a solid human body, the man and she were numinous light bodies, floating, merging, at one with each other. A myriad of multi-faceted, vaporous colours, swirling all around. An incredible lightness of being and an understanding of being one’s true self at one’s highest octave, pure spirit. She felt a sense of being part of all that is, all that ever was, and all that would ever be, as her consciousness expanded into infinite space. The man was moving gracefully. Swirling her ecstatically, around and around in a beautiful waltz.

Dancing in the Light of Love.

Two eternal souls, in spirit form, dancing in the light, living in the moment and that moment was eternal. She was part of him just as he was of her, and they were no longer separate entities, but one being becoming the light. The feelings were so sublime, almost unbearably beautiful. In the Light, they became one in bliss. He looked deeply into her very soul, his thoughts resonated within her, and she knew everything else was an illusion and this was the Truth. And the Truth was beautiful.

 

Then everything began closing in and she was aware of becoming pulled once more, the light began fading and as she fought to stay in this blissful place, the force pulling her grew stronger. Her heart ached, torn away from the man. She was aware of a searing burning pain and she was back in the Emergency room, and the strong voice echoed around the sterile room, ‘Well done team, she’s back.’

 

©Eily Nash ~2012

Thank you reading this extract from my supernatural novel “Wychwood”

Available on Amazon

As a Paperback

Or Kindle eBook.

MUSIC, SONG, Uncategorized

Penny’s Scar

Music is a gift from the gods, speaking the language of the Soul. There are certain singers who have a way of deeply channelling the human condition and when we hear their voice, listen, really LISTEN to their lyrics, something resonates deep inside. American Artist Penny’s Scar is one such talent. I came across this beautiful, soulful and sultry Chanteuse on Twitter ( Penny’s Scar @pennys_scar )and her music spoke directly to my heart and my soul. Waves of remembrance washed over me as her words, her tone, her heart itself flowed through her songs. With elegance and grace this beautiful lady takes pain and hurt and suffering and somehow transforms all of that into healing balm. Her gift to the World is of the heart. It comes from the Soul.

I showed appreciation, and we became friends. I love her and would like to share her music, and the magic that is Penny’s Scar with you…

Enjoy the first of a regular feature on EdenDene Books!

 

TREMBLING TO TOUCH THE PAIN

CLICK TO LISTEN FOR FREE ON SOUNDCLICK PLAYER

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Image from Twitter @pennys_scar

With Penny’s kind permission, the lyrics to this poignantly beautifully song are shared below, her words are pure poetry…

 

Oh the high will find your soul 

In the shadows wading through love.

The sounds they all fade

Touching sorrow touching the pain

The blackest shade that holds you close

It breathes you in whispering to your soul 

Trembling now to the touch pain 

Cause silence lives inside of me 

The ground is cold against the pain

 Darkness melts once held within 

Shadows tinged by emptiness 

The sounds of the night a broken kiss 

The thunder cries a sweet sad song

 It’ll hold you tight it’ll keep you warm 

Trembling now to touch the pain 

Cause silence lives inside of me 

These powdered lips they are stained 

A broken heart to mend the pain 

Trembling now to the touch pain 

Cause silence lives inside of me 

Trembling now to the touch pain 

Cause silence lives inside of me 

Trembling now but I’m not afraid

 Cause silence lives inside of me 

Trembling now to the touch pain 

Silence loves I’m not afraid 

Trembling now to the touch pain 

Cause silence lives inside of me

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©Penny’s Scar

PARABLE, SPIRITUALITY, Uncategorized

Two Strangers

A little parable on knowing it is OK  to ask for help if you are not OK…

worms eyeview of green trees
Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Pexels.com

Two strangers met in a forest.

“I can’t find my way home,” he said.

“I’m lost too, maybe we can find a our way home through the forest together,” she replied.

He looked uncertain, and shaking his head began to walk away.

“Come back!” she cried, “What if you are going the wrong way?”

“NO!” He shouted, “What if you lead me further into the deep dark woods?”

“What if I don’t? What if I lead you home?” Frustration burning in her dark eyes.

He shook his reluctant head. “You go your way, I will go mine. I don’t need you or anyone to help me, I will find my own way home, ALONE.” Without a backward glance he took off through the dense undergrowth.

Alone and afraid she cried out “Help me!” She thought she heard a whispering in the trees behind her and turning around she saw a feint ray of light shone ahead, just enough to see through the canopy. She moved closer and closer to its source. Realising it was coming from soft sunlight heralding the dawn of a fresh new day she began to run. She knew she would now be able to find a way out of the darkness, following the cookie crumbs the dancing motes of light threw upon the forest floor.

Turning, she called excitedly to him, for now they both could be free and no longer lost. But he was long gone, deeper and deeper into the undergrowth, ensnared and trapped by tangled roots and gnarled old trees in the forest of the night. Even if he had been willing, he was too far away to hear.

Knowing she had lost him, she ran forwards drawn by the intensity of the growing Light. The kiss of the morning Sun caught tears glistening on her face, tears of gratitude for her salvation and of sorrow for the lost stranger who could have become a friend.

Eily Nash ~ 2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

POEM, POETRY, Uncategorized, Verse, WRITING & BLOGGING

Silent Scream

Lonely heart.jpg
Beautiful Image by Kellepics on Pixabay

 

Lost in the forests of the night

No sun, no moon or soft starlight

Lonely life but a waking dream

No one hears the silent scream

Searching for the hand of Grace

Reaching down to this heavy place

Fragile heart broken beyond repair

Fragments scattering into the air

Fall bleeding onto the forest floor

Broken body and lost soul no more

 

Eily Nash~2019

FICTION & POETRY, LOVE, MAGIC OF NATURE, OCCULT, SOUL, SPIRIT, SPIRITUALITY, Uncategorized

The Yggdrasil

 

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Tree Of Life from Pinterest

 

Would that I were the wild West Wind

And you, a tree rooted in complacency

I would blow a storm into your world

Shaking dead leaves from your boughs

And uncloaked, you would stand bare

Bathed by the soft Light of the Moon

Staring in wonder at the cloth of heaven

Drawn over you by the hand of Night

 

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Image~Pixabay

 

Sleep now, my love, beneath starry skies

‘Til the stirrings of Spring awakens you

Kissed by rain and soft sunlight, reborn

Will you remember me, the raging storm 

Gifting  you with  ‘knowing’, my Yggdrasil…

When all is still in the forest of your mind

Hear my voice, a whisper on the West Wind

 

You felt the kiss of morning rain and soft sunlight 

and as we danced with the stars in the heavens above

You finally learned to live, My Love…

 

Eily Nash ~2018

Dark Verse, POEM, POETRY, Uncategorized, WRITING

North of Midnight

 

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Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

 

 

Beguiled by her terrible beauty

And the lure of Obsidian eyes 

I followed her essence willingly

Into a midnight velvet world

Only to find my beloved’s heart

Forged in a foundry of darkness

Somewhere North of Midnight

Had captured my eternal soul

 

 

Eily Nash~2018

POETRY, Uncategorized, WRITING & BLOGGING

On The Wings Of The Wind

 

 

silhouette photography of boat on water during sunset
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

 

Deep in the dark caverns of your mind

Thoughts threatening to capsize you

A small boat without safe harbour

Lost upon a vengeful and merciless sea …

 

My heart has heard your cries of pain

Felt the heavy burden of unspoken words

Weighing you down with secrets untold

Brought to me on the wings of the wind…

 

calm ocean panoramic photography
Photo by Denis Yudin on Pexels.com

 

And as a Lighthouse in the darkness

Allow me cast Hope upon your despair

Come find your way back home to me

For just one moment in time, stand still…

 

We shall drink in the sweetness of life

Smile at bees and wild flowers dancing

Walk  through tall meadow grass

Listening to love whisper in the trees…

 

afterglow agriculture back light cereal
Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Pexels.com

 

For the magic of nature feels

The yearning of your heart

And I, your Soul friend, reach out

And silently say “I know…”

 

close up of tree against sky
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

 

© Eily Nash 2018

 

 

 

ANGELS, FICTION, FICTION & POETRY, FLASH FICTION, SHORT STORY, Uncategorized, WRITING, WRITING & BLOGGING

An Angel Calls

 

It is said every soul who walks upon the Earth is assigned a Guardian Angel ~ there are times the Angel may walk beside a soul, there are times the Angel may carry a soul and then there are times the Angel can only stand and weep…

 

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Midwinter. A fog began to descend over the grey London skyline. Dusk had stealthily crept in and stolen the remains of the day away. White stucco walls cloaked in numinous mist and the elegant terrace of Victorian villas took on a ghostly air,  Window panes glowing warm orange, reassurance that all was well within. Fire light, fire bright, all is well tonight. Smoke snaking from tall chimney pots into the chill air warned preternatural creatures of the night to stay away.  One house stood apart from the camaraderie of its neighbours, no warmth or light was to be found within its walls. As dusk gave way to night the fog began to lift. Lights were extinguished and weary folk made their way gratefully to bed, giving thanks to the Lord for the day that had just been done and the morrow yet to come. The interior of number four was just as bleak as the façade. Winter’s icy fingers reached into the very heart of the despondent house, into a cavernous bedroom dressed with heavy furniture of a bygone century when the house was proud and new. A huge mahogany bedstead, barely discernible in the gloom, rose as a dark island in a sea darkness. An oak armoire and a Chiffonier threw dark, dancing shadows. A huge black Victorian cast iron fireplace, inset with tiles glazed with an elegant William Morris floral design took centre stage. It was too dark to appreciate the contrast of the beautiful pure white flowers, against the blackness of the cold and empty hearth. Lilies for the departed soul now restored to innocence after death. The room was out of step with the modern world unfolding beyond its ornate walls patterned in rich shades of gold and teal. Heavy brocade curtains dressed window. Although slightly closed they admitted a pale sliver of moonlight to come creeping in and illuminate the scene within the room.

 

From the remote island of the big bed, a young child sat up, big hazel eyes wide open, scanning the room for an unknown yet threatening Presence. She drew an eiderdown tightly around her tiny body, tucking the edges under her tiny chin. The warmth was reassuring, providing a degree of safety and comfort. The big bulky frame of her Father lay beside the little girl. He was sleeping, heavy breathing reverberating around the room, chasing away the creeping silence. Shadows danced on the walls, intermittently thrown up by arbitrary moonlight. A gilded mirror hung above the fireplace and the child was mesmerised by the forms within its silvery depths. Were there phantasmagorical creatures living in the mirror, inhabitants of a world within worlds? A ray of capricious moonlight fell across the hardwood floor, illuminating a languid, white, and crumpled body. Comatose, the flaccid form lay curled in a foetal position, an empty brandy bottle clutched in a lifeless hand. A strangled sob escaped into the gloom alerting the man, and on seeing his tiny daughter was wide-awake, urged her to snuggle down and sleep. Having witnessed the scene for far too long and powerless to change things, he had ceased to care a long time ago. Defiantly, the child shook her head, soft auburn ringlets swaying around her little heart shaped face, big hazel eyes luminous and anxious. She enquired tentatively whether Mummy was cold, laying there on the floor? Why was Mummy on the floor yet again, and not snuggling up with them like she used to? Should Mummy get into bed too? Should they cover Mummy to keep her warm? Thinly veiling his feelings of revulsion and contempt, voice laden with disgust, the tired man reassured his tiny child that Mummy was fine. So many questions, so few answers. The floor was where Mummy wanted to be, so they should leave her there and go back to dreamland. Then he rolled over and went back to sleep. The little girl burrowed under the covers, and lay down with her tiny nose snuggling into her Daddy’s warm back. Mummy was fine, Daddy knew best. Her worries alleviated, she slept the rest of the night comforted by the deep sleep of the innocent. In her dreams, the child called for an Angel, an Angel of Love and Light, and the Angel hearing her call, came.

(c) William Morris Gallery; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation
(c) The Angel of Peace~ William Morris Gallery

Suddenly, a luminous golden glow bathed the room and the Angel stepped out of the Light with her arms outstretched. She held a gossamer blanket, woven from the light of the stars from the heavens above, and gently she wrapped the child’s Mother in love and light and tenderness. For the Angel knew, just as the child knew, that the woman although bound by addictions and barricaded into her own pain was still a beloved child of the Godhead, of Source and deserving of love and forgiveness and understanding. The Angel prayed a quiet benediction over the child and her Mother and the man who had long forgotten the truth, as he slept in his warm bed whilst his wife lay on the cold, hard floor. A fragrant blend of frankincense and lilies filled the room. The sour smell of stale alcohol pervading the air now dissipated. The man did not smell the fragrant perfume purifying the woman nor did he see the blanket of stars that wrapped her. He did not see the Angel of Light tending to his wife as the Celestial Being tried to remove the vicious demons of addiction from her. He did not see the tender white lily the Angel placed in the woman’s hand as she took away the empty bottle. He did not see these things, for he too was enslaved by his own addictions.

And the Angel stood and wept silent tears for the man and the woman who could not see, as their child could, the Presence of Angels.

~~~♥♥♥~~~

 

Lilies~Gustav Pope
Lilies~Gustav Pope

 

 

Thank you for reading the prologue from my book “Wychwood~Winter’s Child”