Death. Mourning. The fallen tree: energy still giving. When the old dreams die the soul takes to wreathing, but the dear dream that perishes is so another might begin breathing. Sometimes wisdom begs us to surrender, to allow us to see the better path appearing. Time to discard dreams forged in past shackles. Time for dreams dear to those who’re still growing. ©September 2014 & October 2020, Christina Anne Hawthorne
Christina Anne Hawthorne
Alive and well in the Rocky Mountains. I'm a fantasy writer who also dabbles in poetry, short stories, and map making. My Ontyre tales are an alternative fantasy experience, the stories rich in mystery, adventure, and romance. Alternative fantasy? Not quite steampunk. Not quite gothic. In truth, the real magic is in those who discover what's within.