Dreams, Smiles, and Bloody Tears

An avid reader, she always had a fond love of the written word. From an early age, her love manifested into poems, stories, and plays. She is a book reviewer and blogger for Mera's YA Book List, and loves talking to other book fanatics. She is currently attending university in her hometown. When she is not writing or doing course work, she reads, blogs, and makes silly videos with her friends and siblings for Youtube. Dreams, Smiles, and Bloody Tears is her first published work. Are you an author? Help us improve our Author Pages by updating your bibliography and submitting a new or current image and biography.

Learn more at Author Central. All of the juicy details about this novel, as well as the author, are posted below. Keep reading for more. Make sure you add it to your Goodreads if you'd like to read it. Links for Goodreads and pre-orders are at the end of this post. Olympus Confidential by Robert B. Dragonfairy Press is pleased to present the cover for Olympus Confidential, book two in the Plato Jones series.

Be sure to add this series to your TBR list! Plato Jones 2 Genre: Dragonfairy Press Expected Publication Date: November 6, Goodreads: When a band of super-powe. In Which I Review Trust by Tim Mettey. Today, I have the pleasure of sharing my review of Tim Mettey's Trust with you all. Those of you who are linked in with me on Facebook via my profile or via MYABL know how much I raved about this book and this review allows me to rave even more!

Paperback, pages Published October 10th by Matthew Nicholas Keller has come to terms with his Thusian. I've been awol for a while but hang in there with me. There are some big improvements coming soon! Back to the subject! And I call it mammoth for the fact that it's over pages of word Amazon actually puts it at pages , lol, but still really good!

Now to the review! Kindle Edition, pagesPublished. SO sit back, scroll down, and read all about the book and check out it's cool cover. Keep reading for my review, a super awesome giveaway, and an excerpt from the novel. Jaimie AdmansDate of Publication: Lloyd Layton will know I exist. He once said three whole words to me, so this is obviously progress.

This post was actually meant to go up on the 16th I had a huge problem with Blogger, my brother messing with Google, and foolishly forgetting to log out of Google on the home computer, smh but now I have it up and I'm so sorry Maria and Michelle! Back to the topic at hand! My Favorite Mistake by Chelsea M. Who will break first?

Taylor Caldwell can't decide if she wants to kiss her new college roommate or punch him. On the one hand, Hunter Zaccadelli is a handsome blue-eyed bundle of charm. On the other, he's a tattooed, guitar-playing bad boy.

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Maybe that's why Taylor's afraid o. Gone Wild by Ever McCormick. Just before college graduation, Ina--star of her senior class--made a mistake that went viral. To get away, Ina ventures to a cabin on a remote mountain, intent on some solitary time. Ashley Lockett has always followed the rules. She's always done the right thing and played it safe until her ideal life is shattered when her dad dies suddenly. Fueled by anger and grief, she vows to do everything opposite of how she lived before. Then she meets Jordan. He has big dreams, he's had a crush on Ashley for years, an.

She loves three people and three people only: Everyone else is irrelevant. That is … until Reed enters the picture again. Life is no longer si. To make matters worse, she must choose a suitable mate to continue the Seer bloodline. It Was You by Anna Cruise. Abby Sellers knows what she wants. Enduring eighteen years in the shadow of her identical twin sister, Annika, she wants a fresh start.

A chance to create her own life, separate from her conniving, deceptive twin. Surprising both her family and friends, Abby ditches her plans fo. Lumen by Joseph Eastwood Cover Reveal! Before I show you however, I must warn you to prepare for some man sexy, cuz' that's what this cover is! Take a peek and enjoy, then keep scrolling to see the blurb and all the yummy good stuff that comes with reveals.

Taste Test by Kelly Fiore. Hardcover, pages Expected publication: If you can grill it, smoke it, or fry it, Nora Henderson knows all about it. Go to the weak man, and take him away!

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After a moment of fearful realization he added, "No, No, oh merciful Death! Mind not talk, for even fear reveals what the heart forbids. I have accounts with Life requiring settling; I have due from people much gold; my ships have not reached the harbor; my demand, but spare my life. Death, I own harems of supernatural beauty; your choice is my gift to you.

Give heed, Death -- I have but one child, and I love him dearly for he is my only joy in this life. I offer supreme sacrifice -- take him, but spare me! Death murmured, "You are not rich, but pitifully poor. And Death walked slowly amidst the dwellings of the poor until he reached the most miserable he could find. He entered and approached a bed upon which a youth slept fitfully. Death touched his eyes; the lad sprang up as he saw Death standing by, and, with a voice full of love and hope he said, "Here I am, my beautiful Death.

Accept my soul, for you are the hope of my dreams. Embrace me, oh beloved Death! You are merciful; do not leave me. You are God's messenger; deliver me to Him. You are the right hand of Truth and the heart of Kindness; do not neglect me. You hear me now -- embrace my soul, beloved Death! Death placed his softened hand upon the trembling lips, removed all reality, and enfolded it beneath his wings for secure conduct.

And returning to the sky, Death looked back and whispered his warning: The gold-hoarder walked in his palace park and with him walked his troubles. And over his head hovered worries as a vulture hovers over a carcass, until he reached a beautiful lake surrounded by magnificent marble statuary. He sat there pondering the water which poured from the mouths of the statues like thoughts flowing freely from a lover's imagination, and contemplating heavily his palace which stood upon a knoll like a birth-mark upon the cheek of a maiden. His fancy revealed to him the pages of his life's drama which he read with falling tears that veiled his eyes and prevented him from viewing man's feeble additions to Nature.

He looked back with piercing regret to the images of his early life, woven into pattern by the gods, until he could no longer control his anguish. He said aloud, "Yesterday I was grazing my sheep in the green valley, enjoying my existence, sounding my flute, and holding my head high. Today I am a prisoner of greed. Gold leads into gold, then into restlessness and finally into crushing misery. Today I am a slave to fickle wealth, society's rules, and city's customs, and purchased friends, pleasing the people by conforming to the strange and narrow laws of man.

I was born to be free and enjoy the bounty of life, but I find myself like a beast of burden so heavily laden with gold that his back is breaking. Where is my deity? I have lost all! Naught remains save loneliness that saddens me, gold that ridicules me, slaves who curse to my back, and a palace that I have erected as a tomb for my happiness, and in whose greatness I have lost my heart.

Today I am among women with shallow beauty who sell themselves for gold and diamonds. Today I find myself among the people like a frightened lamb among the wolves. As I walk in the roads, they gaze at me with hateful eyes and point at me with scorn and jealousy, and as I steal through the park I see frowning faces all about me. Today I am a slave standing before my wealth, my wealth which robbed me of the beauty of life I once knew.

I did not know that riches would put my life in fragments and lead me into the dungeons of harshness and stupidity. What I thought was glory is naught but an eternal inferno. He gathered himself wearily and walked slowly toward the palace, sighing and repeating, "Is this what people call wealth? Is this the god I am serving and worshipping? Is this what I seek of the earth? Why can I not trade it for one particle of contentment? Who would sell me one beautiful thought for a ton of gold? Who would give me one moment of love for a handful of gems?

Who would grant me an eye that can see others' hearts, and take all my coffers in barter? As he reached the palace gates he turned and looked toward the city as Jeremiah gazed toward Jerusalem. He raised his arms in woeful lament and shouted, "Oh people of the noisome city, who are living in darkness, hastening toward misery, preaching falsehood, and speaking with stupidity Unit when shall you abide in the filth of life and continue to desert its gardens? Why wear you tattered robes of narrowness while the silk raiment of Nature's beauty is fashioned for you?

The lamp of wisdom is dimming; it is time to furnish it with oil. The house of true fortune is being destroyed; it is time to rebuild it and guard it. The thieves of ignorance have stolen the treasure of your peace; it is time to retake it! At that moment a poor man stood before him and stretched forth his hand for alms.

As he looked at the beggar, his lips parted, his eyes brightened with a softness, and his face radiated kindness. It was as if the yesterday he had lamented by the lake had come to greet him. He embraced the pauper with affection and filled his hands with gold, and with a voice sincere with the sweetness of love he said, "Come back tomorrow and bring with you your fellow sufferers. All your possessions will be restored. He entered his palace saying, "Everything in life is good; even gold, for it teaches a lesson. Money is like a stringed instrument; he who does not know how to use it properly will hear only discordant music.

Money is like love; it kills slowly and painfully the one who withholds it, and it enlivens the other who turns it upon his fellow man. Leave Me, My Blamer. Leave me, my blamer, For the sake of the love Which unites your soul with That of your beloved one; For the sake of that which Joins spirit with mothers Affection, and ties your Heart with filial love.

Go, And leave me to my own Weeping heart. Let me sail in the ocean of My dreams; Wait until Tomorrow Comes, for tomorrow is free to Do with me as he wishes. Your Laying is naught but shadow That walks with the spirit to The tomb of abashment, and shows Heard the cold, solid earth. I have a little heart within me And I like to bring him out of His prison and carry him on the Palm of my hand to examine him In depth and extract his secret.

Aim not your arrows at him, lest He takes fright and vanish 'ere he Pours the secrets blood as a Sacrifice at the altar of his Own faith, given him by Deity When he fashioned him of love and beauty. The sun is rising and the nightingale Is singing, and the myrtle is Breathing its fragrance into space. I want to free myself from the Quilted slumber of wrong. Do not Detain me, my blamer! Cavil me not by mention of the Lions of the forest or the Snakes of the valley, for Me soul knows no fear of earth and Accepts no warning of evil before Evil comes. Advise me not, my blamer, for Calamities have opened my heart and Tears have cleanses my eyes, and Errors have taught me the language Of the hearts.

Talk not of banishment, for conscience Is my judge and he will justify me And protect me if I am innocent, and Will deny me of life if I am a criminal. Love's procession is moving; Beauty is waving her banner; Youth is sounding the trumpet of joy; Disturb not my contrition, my blamer.

Let me walk, for the path is rich With roses and mint, and the air Is scented with cleanliness. Relate not the tales of wealth and Greatness, for my soul is rich With bounty and great with God's glory. Speak not of peoples and laws and Kingdoms, for the whole earth is My birthplace and all humans are My brothers. Go from me, for you are taking away Life - giving repentance and bringing Needless words.

Dreams, Smiles, and Bloody Tears by Chamera Sampson

The Beauty of Death. Part One - The Calling. Let me sleep, for my soul is intoxicated with love and Let me rest, for my spirit has had its bounty of days and nights; Light the candles and burn the incense around my bed, and Scatter leaves of jasmine and roses over my body; Embalm my hair with frankincense and sprinkle my feet with perfume, And read what the hand of Death has written on my forehead. Let me rest in the arms of Slumber, for my open eyes are tired; Let the silver-stringed lyre quiver and soothe my spirit; Weave from the harp and lute a veil around my withering heart.

Sing of the past as you behold the dawn of hope in my eyes, for It's magic meaning is a soft bed upon which my heart rests. Dry your tears, my friends, and raise your heads as the flowers Raise their crowns to greet the dawn. Look at the bride of Death standing like a column of light Between my bed and the infinite; Hold your breath and listen with me to the beckoning rustle of Her white wings. Come close and bid me farewell; touch my eyes with smiling lips.

Let the children grasp my hands with soft and rosy fingers; Let the ages place their veined hands upon my head and bless me; Let the virgins come close and see the shadow of God in my eyes, And hear the echo of His will racing with my breath. Part Two - The Ascending.

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I have passed a mountain peak and my soul is soaring in the Firmament of complete and unbound freedom; I am far, far away, my companions, and the clouds are Hiding the hills from my eyes. The valleys are becoming flooded with an ocean of silence, and the Hands of oblivion are engulfing the roads and the houses; The prairies and fields are disappearing behind a white specter That looks like the spring cloud, yellow as the candlelight And red as the twilight.

The songs of the waves and the hymns of the streams Are scattered, and the voices of the throngs reduced to silence; And I can hear naught but the music of Eternity In exact harmony with the spirit's desires. I am cloaked in full whiteness; I am in comfort; I am in peace.

Part Three - The Remains. Unwrap me from this white linen shroud and clothe me With leaves of jasmine and lilies; Take my body from the ivory casket and let it rest Upon pillows of orange blossoms. Lament me not, but sing songs of youth and joy; Shed not tears upon me, but sing of harvest and the winepress; Utter no sigh of agony, but draw upon my face with your Finger the symbol of Love and Joy.

Disturb not the air's tranquility with chanting and requiems, But let your hearts sing with me the song of Eternal Life; Mourn me not with apparel of black, But dress in color and rejoice with me; Talk not of my departure with sighs in your hearts; close Your eyes and you will see me with you forevermore. Place me upon clusters of leaves and Carry my upon your friendly shoulders and Walk slowly to the deserted forest.

Take me not to the crowded burying ground lest my slumber Be disrupted by the rattling of bones and skulls. Carry me to the cypress woods and dig my grave where violets And poppies grow not in the other's shadow; Let my grave be deep so that the flood will not Carry my bones to the open valley; Let my grace be wide, so that the twilight shadows Will come and sit by me. Take from me all earthly raiment and place me deep in my Mother Earth; and place me with care upon my mother's breast.

Cover me with soft earth, and let each handful be mixed With seeds of jasmine, lilies and myrtle; and when they Grow above me, and thrive on my body's element they will Breathe the fragrance of my heart into space; And reveal even to the sun the secret of my peace; And sail with the breeze and comfort the wayfarer. Leave me then, friends - leave me and depart on mute feet, As the silence walks in the deserted valley; Leave me to God and disperse yourselves slowly, as the almond And apple blossoms disperse under the vibration of Nisan's breeze.

Go back to the joy of your dwellings and you will find there That which Death cannot remove from you and me. Leave with place, for what you see here is far away in meaning From the earthly world. The power of charity sows deep in my heart, and I reap and gather the wheat in bundles and give them to the hungry. My soul gives life to the grapevine and I press its bunches and give the juice to the thirsty.

Heaven fills my lamp with oil and I place it at my window to direct the stranger through the dark. I do all these things because I live in them; and if destiny should tie my hands and prevent me from so doing, then death would be my only desire. For I am a poet, and if I cannot give, I shall refuse to receive. Humanity rages like a tempest, but I sigh in silence for I know the storm must pass away while a sigh goes to God. Human kinds cling to earthly things, but I seek ever to embrace the torch of love so it will purify me by its fire and sear inhumanity from my heart.

Substantial things deaden a man without suffering; love awakens him with enlivening pains. Humans are divided into different clans and tribes, and belong to countries and towns. But I find myself a stranger to all communities and belong to no settlement. The universe is my country and the human family is my tribe.

Men are weak, and it is sad that they divide amongst themselves. The world is narrow and it is unwise to cleave it into kingdoms, empires, and provinces. Human kinds unite themselves one to destroy the temples of the soul, and they join hands to build edifices for earthly bodies. I stand alone listening to the voice of hope in my deep self saying, "As love enlivens a man's heart with pain, so ignorance teaches him the way of knowledge.

I have a yearning for my beautiful country, and I love its people because of their misery. But if my people rose, stimulated by plunder and motivated by what they call "patriotic spirit" to murder, and invaded my neighbor's country, then upon the committing of any human atrocity I would hate my people and my country. I sing the praise of my birthplace and long to see the home of my children; but if the people in that home refused to shelter and feed the needy wayfarer, I would convert my praise into anger and my longing to forgetfulness.

My inner voice would say, "The house that does not comfort the need is worthy of naught by destruction. I love my native village with some of my love for my country; and I love my country with part of my love for the earth, all of which is my country; and I love the earth will all of myself because it is the haven of humanity, the manifest spirit of God. Humanity is the spirit of the Supreme Being on earth, and that humanity is standing amidst ruins, hiding its nakedness behind tattered rags, shedding tears upon hollow cheeks, and calling for its children with pitiful voice.

But the children are busy singing their clan's anthem; they are busy sharpening the swords and cannot hear the cry of their mothers. Humanity appeals to its people but they listen not. Were one to listen, and console a mother by wiping her tears, other would say, "He is weak, affected by sentiment. Humanity is the spirit of the Supreme Being on earth, and that Supreme Being preaches love and good-will. But the people ridicule such teachings.

The Nazarene Jesus listened, and crucifixion was his lot; Socrates heard the voice and followed it, and he too fell victim in body. The followers of The Nazarene and Socrates are the followers of Deity, and since people will not kill them, they deride them, saying, "Ridicule is more bitter than killing. Jerusalem could not kill The Nazarene, nor Athens Socrates; they are living yet and shall live eternally. Ridicule cannot triumph over the followers of Deity.

They live and grow forever. Thou art my brother because you are a human, and we both are sons of one Holy Spirit; we are equal and made of the same earth. You are here as my companion along the path of life, and my aid in understanding the meaning of hidden Truth. You are a human, and, that fact sufficing, I love you as a brother. You may speak of me as you choose, for Tomorrow shall take you away and will use your talk as evidence for his judgment, and you shall receive justice. You may deprive me of whatever I possess, for my greed instigated the amassing of wealth and you are entitled to my lot if it will satisfy you.

You may do unto me whatever you wish, but you shall not be able to touch my Truth. You may shed my blood and burn my body, but you cannot kill or hurt my spirit. You may tie my hands with chains and my feet with shackles, and put me in the dark prison, but who shall not enslave my thinking, for it is free, like the breeze in the spacious sky. You are my brother and I love you. I love you worshipping in your church, kneeling in your temple, and praying in your mosque. You and I and all are children of one religion, for the varied paths of religion are but the fingers of the loving hand of the Supreme Being, extended to all, offering completeness of spirit to all, anxious to receive all.

I love you for your Truth, derived from your knowledge; that Truth which I cannot see because of my ignorance. But I respect it as a divine thing, for it is the deed of the spirit. Your Truth shall meet my Truth in the coming world and blend together like the fragrance of flowers and becoming one whole and eternal Truth, perpetuating and living in the eternity of Love and Beauty. I love you because you are weak before the strong oppressor, and poor before the greedy rich. For these reasons I shed tears and comfort you; and from behind my tears I see you embraced in the arms of Justice, smiling and forgiving your persecutors.

You are my brother, but why are you quarreling with me? Why do you invade my country and try to subjugate me for the sake of pleasing those who are seeking glory and authority?

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Why do you leave your wife and children and follow Death to the distant land for the sake of those who buy glory with your blood, and high honor with your mother's tears? Is it an honor for a man to kill his brother man? If you deem it an honor, let it be an act of worship, and erect a temple to Cain who slew his brother Abel. Is self-preservation the first law of Nature? Why, then, does Greed urge you to self-sacrifice in order only to achieve his aim in hurting your brothers?

Beware, my brother, of the leader who says, "Love of existence obliges us to deprive the people of their rights! Selfishness, my brother, is the cause of blind superiority, and superiority creates clanship, and clanship creates authority which leads to discord and subjugation. The soul believes in the power of knowledge and justice over dark ignorance; it denies the authority that supplies the swords to defend and strengthen ignorance and oppression - that authority which destroyed Babylon and shook the foundation of Jerusalem and left Rome in ruins.

It is that which made people call criminals great mean; made writers respect their names; made historians relate the stories of their inhumanity in manner of praise. The only authority I obey is the knowledge of guarding and acquiescing in the Natural Law of Justice. What justice does authority display when it kills the killer?

When it imprisons the robber? When it descends on a neighborhood country and slays its people? What does justice think of the authority under which a killer punishes the one who kills, and a thief sentences the one who steals? You are my brother, and I love you; and Love is justice with its full intensity and dignity. If justice did not support my love for you, regardless of your tribe and community, I would be a deceiver concealing the ugliness of selfishness behind the outer garment of pure love. My soul is my friend who consoles me in misery and distress of life.

He who does not befriend his soul is an enemy of humanity, and he who does not find human guidance within himself will perish desperately. Life emerges from within, and derives not from environs. I came to say a word and I shall say it now. But if death prevents its uttering, it will be said by Tomorrow, for Tomorrow never leaves a secret in the book of Eternity. I came to live in the glory of Love and the light of Beauty, which are the reflections of God. I am here living, and the people are unable to exile me from the domain of life for they know I will live in death.

If they pluck my eyes I will hearken to the murmurs of Love and the songs of Beauty. If they close my ears I will enjoy the touch of the breeze mixed with the incense of Love and the fragrance of Beauty. If they place me in a vacuum, I will live together with my soul, the child of Love and Beauty. I came here to be for all and with all, and what I do today in my solitude will be echoed by Tomorrow to the people.

What I say now with one heart will be said tomorrow by many hearts. Come, my beloved; let us walk amidst the knolls, For the snow is water, and Life is alive from its Slumber and is roaming the hills and valleys. Let us follow the footprints of Spring into the Distant fields, and mount the hilltops to draw Inspiration high above the cool green plains. Dawn of Spring has unfolded her winter-kept garment And placed it on the peach and citrus trees; and They appear as brides in the ceremonial custom of the Night of Kedre.

The sprigs of grapevine embrace each other like Sweethearts, and the brooks burst out in dance Between the rocks, repeating the song of joy; And the flowers bud suddenly from the heart of Nature, like foam from the rich heart of the sea. Come, my beloved; let us drink the last of Winter's Tears from the cupped lilies, and soothe our spirits With the shower of notes from the birds, and wander In exhilaration through the intoxicating breeze.

Let us sit by that rock, where violets hide; let us Pursue their exchange of the sweetness of kisses. Let us go into the fields, my beloved, for the Time of harvest approaches, and the sun's eyes Are ripening the grain. Let us tend the fruit of the earth, as the Spirit nourishes the grains of Joy from the Seeds of Love, sowed deep in our hearts. Let us fill our bins with the products of Nature, as life fills so abundantly the Domain of our hearts with her endless bounty.

Let us make the flowers our bed, and the Sky our blanket, and rest our heads together Upon pillows of soft hay. Let us relax after the day's toil, and listen To the provoking murmur of the brook. Let us go and gather grapes in the vineyard For the winepress, and keep the wine in old Vases, as the spirit keeps Knowledge of the Ages in eternal vessels.

Let us return to our dwelling, for the wind has Caused the yellow leaves to fall and shroud the Withering flowers that whisper elegy to Summer. Come home, my eternal sweetheart, for the birds Have made pilgrimage to warmth and lest the chilled Prairies suffering pangs of solitude. The jasmine And myrtle have no more tears. Let us retreat, for the tired brook has Ceased its song; and the bubblesome springs Are drained of their copious weeping; and Their cautious old hills have stored away Their colorful garments.

Come, my beloved; Nature is justly weary And is bidding her enthusiasm farewell With quiet and contented melody. Come close to me, oh companion of my full life; Come close to me and let not Winter's touch Enter between us. Sit by me before the hearth, For fire is the only fruit of Winter. Speak to me of the glory of your heart, for That is greater than the shrieking elements Beyond our door.

Bind the door and seal the transoms, for the Angry countenance of the heaven depresses my Spirit, and the face of our snow-laden fields Makes my soul cry. Feed the lamp with oil and let it not dim, and Place it by you, so I can read with tears what Your life with me has written upon your face. Let us drink and sing the Song of remembrance to Spring's carefree sowing, And Summer's watchful tending, and Autumn's Reward in harvest. Come close to me, oh beloved of my soul; the Fire is cooling and fleeing under the ashes. Embrace me, for I fear loneliness; the lamp is Dim, and the wine which we pressed is closing Our eyes.

Let us look upon each other before They are shut. Find me with your arms and embrace me; let Slumber then embrace our souls as one. Kiss me, my beloved, for Winter has stolen All but our moving lips. You are close by me, My Forever. How deep and wide will be the ocean of Slumber, And how recent was the dawn! The strong shore is my beloved And I am his sweetheart. We are at last united by love, and Then the moon draws me from him. I go to him in haste and depart Reluctantly, with many Little farewells. I steal swiftly from behind the Blue horizon to cast the silver of My foam upon the gold of his sand, and We blend in melted brilliance.

I quench his thirst and submerge his Heart; he softens my voice and subdues My temper. At dawn I recite the rules of love upon His ears, and he embraces me longingly. At eventide I sing to him the song of Hope, and then print smooth hisses upon His face; I am swift and fearful, but he Is quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

His Broad bosom soothes my restlessness. As the tide comes we caress each other, When it withdraws, I drop to his feet in Prayer. Many times have I danced around mermaids As they rose from the depths and rested Upon my crest to watch the stars; Many times have I heard lovers complain Of their smallness, and I helped them to sigh. Many times have I teased the great rocks And fondled them with a smile, but never Have I received laughter from them; Many times have I lifted drowning souls And carried them tenderly to my beloved Shore.

He gives them strength as he Takes mine. Many times have I stolen gems from the Depths and presented them to my beloved Shore. He takes them in silence, but still I give fro he welcomes me ever.

In the heaviness of night, when all Creatures seek the ghost of Slumber, I Sit up, singing at one time and sighing At another. I am awake always. Sleeplessness has weakened me! But I am a lover, and the truth of love Is strong. I may be weary, but I shall never die. The tempest calmed after bending the branches of the trees and leaning heavily upon the grain in the field.

The stars appeared as broken remnants of lightning, but now silence prevailed over all, as if Nature's war had never been fought. At that hour a young woman entered her chamber and knelt by her bed sobbing bitterly. Her heart flamed with agony but she could finally open her lips and say, "Oh Lord, bring him home safely to me. I have exhausted my tears and can offer no more, oh Lord, full of love and mercy. My patience is drained and calamity is seeking possession of my heart. Save him, oh Lord, from the iron paws of War; deliver him from such unmerciful Death, for he is weak, governed by the strong.

Oh Lord, save my beloved, who is Thine own son, from the foe, who is Thy foe. Keep him from the forced pathway to Death's door; let him see me, or come and take me to him. Quietly a young man entered. His head was wrapped in bandage soaked with escaping life. He approached he with a greeting of tears and laughter, then took her hand and placed against it his flaming lips. And with a voice with bespoke past sorrow, and joy of union, and uncertainty of her reaction, he said, "Fear me not, for I am the object of your plea. Be glad, for Peace has carried me back safely to you, and humanity has restored what greed essayed to take from us.

Be not sad, but smile, my beloved. Do not express bewilderment, for Love has power that dispels Death; charm that conquers the enemy. I am your one. Think me not a specter emerging from the House of Death to visit your Home of Beauty. I am Word uttering introduction to the play of happiness and peace. Then the young man became speechless and his tears spoke the language of the heart; and the angels of Joy hovered about that dwelling, and the two hearts restored the singleness which had been taken from them. At dawn the two stood in the middle of the field contemplating the beauty of Nature injured by the tempest.

After a deep and comforting silence, the soldier said to his sweetheart, "Look at the Darkness, giving birth to the Sun. The Playground of Life. One hour devoted to the pursuit of Beauty And Love is worth a full century of glory Given by the frightened weak to the strong. From that hour comes man's Truth; and During that century Truth sleeps between The restless arms of disturbing dreams.

In that hour the soul sees for herself The Natural Law, and for that century she Imprisons herself behind the law of man; And she is shackled with irons of oppression. That hour was the inspiration of the Songs Of Solomon, an that century was the blind Power which destroyed the temple of Baalbek. That hour was the birth of the Sermon on the Mount, and that century wrecked the castles of Palmyra and the Tower of Babylon. One hour devoted to mourning and lamenting the Stolen equality of the weak is nobler than a Century filled with greed and usurpation.

It is at that hour when the heart is Purified by flaming sorrow and Illuminated by the torch of Love. And in that century, desires for Truth Are buried in the bosom of the earth. That hour is the root which must flourish. That hour of meditation, the hour of Prayer, and the hour of a new era of good. And that century is a life of Nero spent On self-investment taken solely from Earthly substance. Portrayed on the stage for ages; Recorded earthly for centuries; Lived in strangeness for years; Sung as a hymn for days; Exalted but for an hour, but the Hour is treasured by Eternity as a jewel.

The City of the Dead. Yesterday I drew myself from the noisome throngs and proceeded into the field until I reached a knoll upon which Nature had spread her comely garments. Now I could breathe. I looked back, and the city appeared with its magnificent mosques and stately residences veiled by the smoke of the shops. I commenced analyzing man's mission, but could conclude only that most of his life was identified with struggle and hardship.

Then I tried not to ponder over what the sons of Adam had done, and centered my eyes on the field which is the throne of God's glory. In one secluded corner of the field I observed a burying ground surrounded by poplar trees. There, between the city of the dead and the city of the living, I meditated. I thought of the eternal silence in the first and the endless sorrow in the second. In the city of the living I found hope and despair; love and hatred, joy and sorrow, wealth and poverty, faith and infidelity.

In the city of the dead there is buried earth in earth that Nature converts, in the night's silence, into vegetation, and then into animal, and then into man. As my mind wandered in this fashion, I saw a procession moving slowly and reverently, accompanied by pieces of music that filled the sky with sad melody. It was an elaborate funeral. The dead was followed by the living who wept and lamented his going.

As the cortege reached the place of interment the priests commenced praying and burning incense, and musicians blowing and plucking their instruments, mourning the departed. Then the leaders came forward one after the other and recited their eulogies with fine choice of words. At last the multitude departed, leaving the dead resting in a most spacious and beautiful vault, expertly designed in stone and iron, and surrounded by the most expensively-entwined wreaths of flowers. The farewell-bidders returned to the city and I remained, watching them from a distance and speaking softly to myself while the sun was descending to the horizon and Nature was making her many preparations for slumber.

Then I saw two men laboring under the weight of a wooden casket, and behind them a shabby-appearing woman carrying an infant on her arms. Following last was a dog who, with heartbreaking eyes, stared first at the woman and then at the casket. It was a poor funeral. This guest of Death left to cold society a miserable wife and an infant to share her sorrows and a faithful dog whose heart knew of his companion's departure.

As they reached the burial place they deposited the casket into a ditch away from the tended shrubs and marble stones, and retreated after a few simple words to God. The dog made one last turn to look at his friend's grave as the small group disappeared behind the trees. I looked at the city of the living and said to myself, "That place belongs to the few. Oh Lord, where is the haven of all the people?

As I said this, I looked toward the clouds, mingled with the sun's longest and most beautiful golden rays. And I heard a voice within me saying, "Over there! The Widow and Her Son. Night fell over North Lebanon and snow was covering the villages surrounded by the Kadeesha Valley, giving the fields and prairies the appearance of a great sheet of parchment upon which the furious Nature was recording her many deeds.

Men came home from the streets while silence engulfed the night. In a lone house near those villages lived a woman who sat by her fireside spinning wool, and at her side was her only child, staring now at the fire and then at his mother. A terrible roar of thunder shook the house and the little boy shook with fright.

He threw his arms about his mother, seeking protection from Nature in her affection. She took him to her bosom and kissed him; then she say him on her lap and said, "Do not fear, my son, for Nature is but comparing her great power to man's weakness. There is a Supreme Being beyond the falling snow and the heavy clouds and the blowing wind, and He knows the needs of the earth, for He made it; and He looks upon the weak with merciful eyes.

Nature smiles in Spring and laughs in Summer and yawns in Autumn, but now she is weeping; and with her tears she waters life, hidden under the earth. The snow and thunder bring us closer to him at this time.