... for Christmas nights.

Yo, I'm up for art trades! My graffiti for whatever you specialize in. Let me know, ey!!!

... of nothing but the emptiness of a few words.

^{Journal Bump!}

... of not much import.

Or so it seems.

Read on, MacDuff, read on.

They were Hunters, lean and well-meaning.

'Twas a Stag, frustrated and fatigued.

They laid in wait.

It walked in unknowning.

They sprang to the attack.

It fled, twisting and leaping.

They hunted without pause.

It backed into a corner.

They stood ready, unflinching. It submitted to Its end, a bloodless death, shot through to Its heart. A plaintive cry upon Its lips as It fell.

"Maketh not promises not easily kept, for such are empty and akin to the broken."

And so ends a tale of not much import.

Alas, there is not much more.

A good night to you, Lords and Ladies.

Good night.

... for my own good.

Many apologies to everyone for not reading journals, viewing deviations, replying comments and activities, and posting artwork and requests.

I will get around to it eventually.

I hope.

JANA! Laters, friends!

(Hope to be back actively online soon)

^{... a declaration, of sorts.}

Plans laid out don't always hold nor do they last.

More's the pity.

I looked forward to many years with her, to love, to be loved, to share and enjoy life with, to succeed where before I failed, to prove that a bright future is possible and thereby that people are wrong about me and that I can stand up to the tests that come.

Now, that which gave me hope, belief and faith has come to an end.

But, I have to move forward, not only to hold up and prove my potential but to prove the naysayers wrong and to prove my worth to the woman whom I still love.

Even if it drives me nearly insane in the process.

Take a chance, bide the time and then strike.

That is all.

_{Musings on the Breeze}