P.S.A: An Ever Dwindling Species

Peace and Tranquility are timid beasts. Though many think them to be illusions, mere mythological serendipity, they do exist, though their numbers are fewer than from times past, they can be found, and in unexpected places.

The fortunate news, despite their dwindling population, these beasts are evolving and adapting to this runaway age.

Where once you could find them on the whisper of the wind traveling through every tree that once lined the dirt beaten track, or in the ripple of water playing over stones in a small backyard brook, you can now find them on the rooftops of a moonlit New York city roof, quietly defying the traffic below which will usually threaten the two species with it's angry horns and screeching tires.

Unfortunately, the slaying of these majestic creatures is a favorite past time of man and an incredibly easy activity, one that is said to relieve stress and is considered entertainment to a wild spectrum of people. While a bird's song will easily draw either Peace or Tranquility from their own dwelling places, a harshly spoken word, or the banging of a door can just as easily slay these kind, timid beasts. In fact, children are the most notorious slayers of these great beasts, and this fact is made all the more tragic by the ignorant and careless way children kill them.

I advocate for the protection of these fragile creatures, not only for their own sake, but for the sake of man-kind as well. If you, dear friend, are ever in the position to visit one of these rare creatures, or perhaps, if, on a rare occasion, they ever visit you themselves, I strongly suggest you savour the beauty and absolute magic of these beasts. Care for them with the tender love you would usually reserve for a child.

And finally, dear bloggers, if you can find it within yourself to do so, foster these grand animals, offer them a small portion of your home. Part of the magic Peace and Tranquility offer is their ability to adjust their size to better suit their host.

I beg you to take to heart my words,
Thank you

Bits n' Pieces

Once more have I neglected you, dear bloggers, and once more have the phantoms of ideas and thoughts been tugging at my conscience only to flee at the sight of the keyboard.
Shy things, my thoughts.

Those I do remember, and I feel necessitate recording, make no sense. Just particles of once greater thoughts and fantasies.
Lucky you, to stumble across this particular blog entry; I invite you to enjoy my fragmented thoughts and to finish them at your leisure.


"She stared out of the frosted window and let her imagination loose upon the mist and forest, watching as the creative shadow of her mind stretched gossamer wings forth to brush the gray, twisted bramble, causing a metamorphosis from wooden elements to the deadly elements of a human assassin, forbidding in stature and cloaked in gray.
Face hooded, this man of the night wandered, his only companion, and only means of providing for himself and his loved ones, was the hard dagger at his hip; this dagger glinted maliciously in the thin moonlight, quite aware, despite its inanimate state, of the power it held over its master. This dagger was, needless to say, a very poor companion for the lonely man who strode through the forest.
The assassin, Death's own apprentice, possessed arms that could, and for the correct price would, wrap their vice-like grip around the fragile shells of many an embodied spirit, effectively extinguishing the lives of those unfortunate few. Yet...the girl could tell that these arms were more inclined to wrap around his hungry children waiting for him back across the sea.
Granting the man his wish, she watched as the mist swiftly dissolved into the foaming sea and as a the shadows became the dark, angry ocean. The wind blew and carressed the poor man's face, and she watched this assassin, this husband, this father, lift his head, thoughts momentarily diverted from the grisly tasks awaiting him back across the sea.
She watched expectantly for the warming reunion sure to come as children greeted father and wife, husband. Light and darkness played across her frosty window into this imaginative world, however, causing the creative shadow to withdraw its wing, and throw the assassin's story onto the back of a cool winter wind, scattering the story across the countryside and into the dreams of farmers and their own hungry famalies.
She tilted her head up to greet he who had interrupted her musings, long hair shifting over wool covered shoulders and..."


So how about, on a totally different note, dear readers, instead of saying passed with flying colors we say succeeded with gravity-defying prisms of resplendent light ?

I have other thoughts that would compliment these that I have typed out, but I think it time to retire for the night.
I bid you good night and sweet dreams.