Truth Ignored: Foreboding & Rambling Whispers

Night Shadows 26 cby Carrie K. Hutchens

The shadows follow into the night, brushing against the moment and cloaking in a chill of foreboding and rambling whispers.

A lone star mocks.

A chirp betrays.

A breeze moans.

Darkness dances and whirls in a haunting silence — the tune long forgotten — the steps mimicking and purposeless.

A fox cringes.

A bird soars in terror.

A cloud wanders.

A town sits alone and frightened in its despair of life that was, but now only memories burning and bitter in hopelessness.

Yesterday calls.

The night cries.

A tree falters.

The shadows follow into the night, brushing against the moment and cloaking in a chill of foreboding and rambling whispers, as the blasts come closer… closer… closer… until they are heard no more.

(c) 2015 Carrie K. Hutchens
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In A Fury of Pure Hatred

burned buildingScreams pierce the night, as sirens wail against the blasts that light up the darkness in a fury of pure hatred.  Smoke smothers the air.  People seek to flee, running in desperation, but with no destination, except away… away from the blasts and the stench of burning flesh.

How long?  How long has there been warning unheeded?  Warning mocked as mere delusions of some?  How long has the laughter rolled from the lips of the all-knowing and all-enlightened ones?  Does it now matter?

Hearts pumping wildly as sweat flows freely.  Blasts closer and closer.  Breathing loud and labored against the sounds of people stampeding in blind flight.  Away.  Away from the nightmare and the murder surrounding and encircling.  The nightmare devouring hope, with lungs fighting frantically for the next breath.  Just one more breath.  The breath that doesn’t come.  The awareness of suffocation. 

The terror.  The tears.  The prayers.

Suffocating.  Falling.  Numbness.  Nothingness.

A silence that no one hears.

(c) 2015 Carrie K. Hutchens
All Rights Reserved!
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The Icy Chill

Photo by: Carrie K. Hutchens

Photo by: Carrie K. Hutchens

The icy chill of winter, clinging beyond its time, mocks and dances against the lonely night of darkness where no friendly voice speaks and no hopeful hand rests.

The chill… the darkness… the hopelessness embraces and suffocates.

Cries begging for mercy race to the heavens, as man drags still another unwilling soul into the pit of vile corruption that seeks to crush and devour.

The chill… the darkness… the hopelessness embraces and suffocates.

A hopeful challenge sings against the confusion, with no one to listen and few to remember the days when the world was not encouraged to sink into the incomprehension of utter insanity.

The chill… the darkness… the hopelessness embraces and suffocates.

Madness and rage erupt into boiling lava of confused hate and lost reason, as the masses seek to feast upon the spirit of all others not they or theirs.

The chill… the darkness… the hopelessness embraces and suffocates.

A dream, or a nightmare, there was a moment… a moment somewhere within time… a moment touched with a vague sense of humanity and good purpose.

The chill… the darkness… the hopelessness embraces and suffocates.

Where… where did those moments of a dream go?  Did they travel far or just beyond the glimpse of a horizon hidden?

Did the chill… the darkness… the hopelessness embrace and suffocate all hope of a tomorrow to be as once was? 

The answers await within the night not present.  Only in a distant tomorrow will the truth be revealed to survivors of the icy chill that dances within the darkness where no friendly voice speaks and no hopeful hand rests. 

The saved or the damned?  Only they shall know as they emerge into whatever has become.

(c) 2015 Carrie K. Hutchens
All Rights Reserved!
No Reproduction Without Permission

One Judge to Judge

dead tree 3Words slash against the heavens in insult and bitter shout.  No mercy.  No empathy.  Only cold and destructive touch to caress the moment born of last.

Judgment reigns and ever reeks.  Confession for the soul not owned.   The stench of waste to overpower.  Control demands of mandate bile to heap upon the pile. 

One set of rules.  One judge to judge.  In arrogance the attitude of dashing stain.

Trust betrayed.  Truth mocked in spittle spray.  No cloth to dampen.  Only tissues of utter despair to wipe the walls in story told of the history once defined to be.

Shadows fill the day in whispers made of sin.  No sun to shine.  No birds to sing.  The ascension of wrongs to devour the gentle breeze of yesterdays lost in once upon a time.

One set of rules.  One judge to judge.  In arrogance the attitude of crushing disdain.

In flights of thought and worries more — no answers touch… no reason sowed … the words of harvest feed upon the innocent soul so mocked and left in withered silence muted.

Anger’s birth.  Seed of demise.  Hope dashed in vast delight.  A world evolved in destructive path.  Crushed spirits to pave the trail sunken in muck and rank decay.

One set of rules.  One judge to judge.  In arrogance the attitude without refrain. 

A sin of betrayal.  A sin of cruelty harshly inflicted once and again.  Oh yes, the righteous attitude so proudly donned in crowned tarnish and spiked venom slithering .  A stigma of toxic shame to carry throughout all eternity and beyond in the never-ending of forever and just one day more.

(c) 2015 Carrie K. Hutchens
All Rights Reserved!
No Reproduction Without Permission

Well look who is here! Great to see you!

WelcomeDear “Truly Appreciated Visitor”,

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Thank you again for taking the time to visit!  I do hope you enjoy and will come back often!

Best wishes sent to embrace,

~Carrie

Darkness of the Corruptor

Photo by Carrie K. Hutchens

Photo by Carrie K. Hutchens

Once again, I strove to be… to thrive and with dreams to see, but the darkness of the corrupt — it seems — had no mercy this day for me.

Reaching for truth has lost its sparkle of golden rays.  Instead, how many laugh at honesty and bid one to take another’s position, possessions and earned rewards?  It has come to be the way of some, who haunt the ones of righteous heart.  It has become a taunt and a tease and a call to appease the lord of darkness too many have come to honor in such merriment and giggly delight.

Why don’t we all join, so we can be one, they seem to wonder — never understanding why we say, “no” and go on trying to reach the bright light of hope and success in goodness and effort true.

It is a time of darkness that looms within the day to defile our efforts, as it delights in mocking us at every turn and blocking every path of chance to be.

It is a darkness that suffocates and pulls us down into the whirling slime of efforts failed… efforts failed at the hands of others far too strong for us to fight.

It is a darkness that needs our souls, if it is to become the ruler of the Universe it so covets and so long fought to conquer and destroy.

Oh yes, it is a darkness… a darkness that is embracing the world with hate and violence and an intolerance for anything that is good and pure.  It hates and bids others to hate.  It kills and bids others to kill.  For it has no heart.  It has no compassion.  It only has greed and desperate need to be all-powerful this day and all days ever left to be.

Today becomes yesterday.  One day survived.  Tomorrow moves on to a new today where darkness will follow and not only fight to remain — it will fight to reign over all that remain, including you and me.  For, alas, that is where we have come to be, unless tomorrow we see and take back all that we once were and fought so desperately to be.

(c) 2014 Carrie K. Hutchens
All Rights Reserved!
No Reproduction Without Permission

Still Another Day More

burnBy

Carrie K. Hutchens

Terror fills my being in the shadows of this night.  I know not what tomorrow shall bring, but I do know what has been promised to be my fate at human hands.  How can this be my destiny?

Tears stream down my burning cheeks.  Sobs take my breath as if to suffocate all that I am… all that I have been… all that shall ever be or not be for me.

Hope mocks the moment and dares me to believe.  Dares me to believe that there shall be anything beyond this moment and the darkness that fills every space where hope once rested.

I feel empty… oh so empty.  It feels so strange… so foreign… so alone… so of nothingness.

Did my spirit die in this night before the execution of my fate?

Must I… did I… have I… submitted to the wrongful sentence cast upon me?

Tomorrow shall perhaps give a hint of answer, if light does greet the morning’s dawn and a breath whispers upon my lips in still another prayer of hope and a chance to survive one day more… still another day more.

(c) 2014 Carrie K. Hutchens
      All Rights Reserved!
      No Reproduction Without Permission

Without Mercy

Wolf 1By

Carrie K. Hutchens

What dark spirit filled your soul and gave you desire to destroy our lives?  What voice called to you, as you smiled in such delight at our destruction and the hopelessness that you led us to?

Oh, the innocence that you pretended to be yours… the victimhood you strove to call your own… what hypocrisy that only fooled a few.  Sadly, for us… it was the few in control to judge and award you what was not yours to be rewarded with.

I remember your words well.  I can hear the promises you made.  The words of such promise, followed by a viciousness without mercy.  How were we to suppose?

Such darkness rests hidden within your heart.  A soul of contempt to lay feast before your feet.  A pride unchecked and forever written within the clouds above.

Today is your day to celebrate the wrongful win.  Your judgment rests within the tomorrows to be.  Someday, you will be called to answer and the judge will not be fooled.  He knows the truth and he shall award you with the reward you have earned.  May He have mercy on you, though you had none for us this day or any day to follow.

(c) 2014 Carrie K. Hutchens
All Rights Reserved!
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For Me

IMGA01051by  Carrie K. Hutchens

I call into the night begging to know why truth is used as a sword to pierce my heart, as lies dance in such delight.  Oh such delight.  Such dancing.  Such laughter to reek against the skies and shatter the goodness of all thought.

The tears blind me.  My cheeks burn.  The sobs of betrayal so intense to crush any hope that might have ever been or might to ever be.

Is there even a chance of tomorrow for me?

The soft voices of offer give guise.

Sweet words of hopeful promise tease each breath ever given this day or even before.  Who said they were not to be what they were meant to be?

Is there even a chance of today for me?

I cry within the night begging to know why truth is so readily dismissed and why lies are left to feast and devour.

Who called this banquet to tease and to test this humble servant of the Lord of all good?  Who indeed blessed this evil offense and in glee grabs a stolen win?

Is there even a chance of a moment for me?

Is there a tomorrow to come or has it been taken in celebration of still another soul left to wither in agonizing pain of truth crushed and no justice to remain? 

(c) 2014 Carrie K. Hutchens
      All Rights Reserved!
      No Reproduction Without Permission
 

Night Screams in Silence as Darkness Comes to Conquer

skullNight screams in silence, as darkness slides into the shadows of unknown reflection.  There is no whisper to touch the moment… no hint to see… no tear to hear… the echo calls out to none and cries merely in apprehension of the awaiting fate that stirs near and yet rests so far away.

How did this become all that is, while all else remains somewhere in the vast dimension of all forbidden, though only to some… just to some… just to those shuttered on the outside of things to be?

Night creeps further into the harsh moment, where eyes peer cautiously and anguish threatens to devour all not cloaked in its sweet scent of remorse and the haunting thoughts pursuing.

When did it call out in demands of utter defiance?  What hand lay it into the midst of all that is and all that might ever be?  Who is the shadow birthing the terror and snuffing the flicker of breath once given freely to all?  Where did this beast travel from that does prey upon all those isolated and helplessly devoured by the shadows of ghostly destruction destined in the early hours before the dawn to come?

Did the darkness of madness come alone or has it been descending in a mass of existence not supposed in possibility?  Who bid it come?  Who holds the power to send it back into the nightmare of its creation?  Who is it that walks in mocking tones and dares us to see truth in the moon’s rays or the breath of spring before the death of winter?

Oh yes… it is a question to unfold and to cause recoil.  A sight terrifying in hideous form of drooling madness dripping from the being of twisted shapes and words deformed in presentation to embrace the masses of ignorance who shall dance in thrilling ecstasy at the banquet of their destructive sacrifice of self.

Ah, the beast with blackened heart and stench of rotting soul, standing just beyond man’s sight in his tremoring wake, still leaves wonder as to who beckoned the vile creature to dine upon the world?  Are there any so mighty in deed and wing of righteous spirit to swoop away the obscene presence of perverted flesh and the master who bid it come to feast in such great delight?

The night screams in silence and the desperate cry does remain forever sobbing in the dark corners of time as it asks again and ever again…

Are there any… any at all… who embrace the power to rise in mighty force and sling the deadly beast back into the netherworld of nightmares and the haven of its shadowed nest?  Are there any…  any at all who can save us from this doom of madness and agony once foretold and ever written of a time when the beast of darkness came to conquer the unwilling souls in the land that has come to reek of perversion and mock all once held in sacred covenant of old?

©2014 Carrie K. Hutchens
All Rights Reserved!
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Tears Unheard

by

Carrie K. Hutchens

WhippoorwillI walk tonight wondering why this day is no more than yesterday.  Where has the hope hidden upon the path so dark and lonely?  Is there anyone?  Is there anyone near?  Is there anyone to hear?  Do my tears touch the ears of any or do they fade into aloneness somewhere along the roughed trail of hopes forbidden and too often stolen?

I pause.

I search the shadows.

Nothing touches the moment in hope or chance of a tomorrow beyond what has ever been.

Silence calls out in a whisper not heard.

Sunlight fades into blinding darkness.

No birds sing.  No crickets dance.  It’s all as if the world has stopped with dreams no more as nightmares soar.

As I begin to sink into the failed moment of twisted thought and hope forever lost, a Whippoorwill calls out into the dusk to sing of the dawn to be.

The little Whippoorwill refuses to see the darkness and sings of all the wonders in the sky above, with twinkling stars to dance in delight and the moon to smile upon the night.

The path, no longer frozen in the isolation of despair, bids me follow the songs of the nightly choir.  The choir so often unheard, but always there to assure we are never truly alone or in a void untouched by a God ever present.

Darkness may engulf us and reek of vile intent at the hands of man, but it shall never do so at the hands of He who loves us and bids us hear the choir He created to comfort and lead to delight.  A choir to remind us — we are never truly alone and our tears are always heard!

(c) 2014 Carrie K. Hutchens
All Rights Reserved!
No Reproduction Without Permission

Right for Me & Thee

IMGA00331Desperation embraces the moment giving chill to hope and igniting the flames of fear to greet the day!  How can this be?  Where did the angels go as I walk alone among the vile destruction laid before me?  Where did they hide as all dreams faded into the night where mocking laughter devoured the chances of tomorrow in a feast of hideous pleasure?

 I look to the sun for guidance through the pit of darkness and find only heavy clouds to burden the moment and forbidding even the faintest of rays to brush against the fleeting breath.  How can this be?  Where has the light gone as I stumble in the pit of evil hearts and deeds slung into the paths given to me as mine and thine?  Where did it hide as hope was stomped into suffocation of their seductive dance of pure deceit?

I cannot know where the light of good has gone, but neither can I flee all that is and has to be.

Slowly… ever so slowly… I look to the heavens, my whisper low and humble, as I beg for His mercy and cry for His army of truth to embrace all of the tears, fears and lonely years bestowed upon this life traveled by me and thee.

Does He hear me?  Shall there be an answer of light or is it too late for my prayers to reach the heavens and His gentle heart?  I cannot know.  Not today.  Not in the dreary moment resting in the depths of evil’s womb, but perhaps tomorrow or in a day.  Yes, perhaps tomorrow shall shine in all the glory of possibilities and blessings touched by His hand of love for me and thee.

Yes, perhaps tomorrow, or even in the moment before, I must believe, for He is the God of all times and His miracles are His to give and are controlled by no man nor evil that walks upon this earth.  He shall say and it shall be whatever is right on this day, as we travel through the harsh battlefield to reach and embrace the wonders of the life given by He just for me and thee!

God bless me and thee and all the wonders that be — even the ones we do not see — as we travel the path and come to believe in the hope and light in the embrace given by He!

(c) 2011 – 2014 Carrie K. Hutchens
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Tormenting & Unforgiving: This is All There is

destruction 3Anger rages within my being as the truth pours forth and I come to know why life has been so tormenting and unforgiving to me.

So much has been unfair and devastating… no chance did I have to make things right or to grasp the golden ring as it flew by me into the hands of another… always another… never me… not once me… not even a single time was it to be.

I’ve cried the tears of many… and begged and pleaded often… only to have cold backs turned to me and the chuckles echoing into the darkness of my mood.

How dare I ask.  How dare I hope.  How dare I even wonder why.

Then comes the answer.  The answer that has always alluded and deluded all that I ever was and am and might have ever been.  I am a victim.  I am a victim and now I know.  No more questions to be asked.  Just some checks to collect and the promise I’ll never try to be anything more than their little toy to nanny and pump their ruling self-indulging pride.

Oh, they… the saviors that have come to save us victims… the victims of their making… do dance in delight and no doubt  toast us each night, as they enjoy all they have denied those not they.  Alas for they, but not for us, one day their reign of twisted thought and selfish gain, shall lead them to the end of their enjoyed stolen reign.

And at the end of that path…

There shall stand the “new” dictators and designers, who will then appoint them the victims to be taunted and denied.  It will then be they that cry and beg, while backs are turned and chuckles heard, as they become the toys to nanny and pump the rulers self-indulging pride.

Yes, it will be they… and rather than a helping hand given… someone will tell them that they are not only victims, but forever victims with no hope to touch their present or their future.  Someone will tell them, “This is all there is.  Give up and enjoy the crumbs we’ll give to you.  You are, after all, a victim of our enemy and a pawn to be played by us and they.”

In thought of what is to come to be… the rage is no longer left in me.

Copyrighted ©Carrie K. Hutchens 2014 – All Rights Reserved

Madness Steals the Morning Light

destructionThe suffocating madness steals the morning light and bids all children to follow into its darkness of the damned.  A darkness cold and blinding to all that is and has ever been.  A darkness mocking and shrill in the deceit it drapes wildly in foul disdain for any truth that hints to bless the day.

Laughter touches the breeze, but only for a brief whisper of eternity.  Only for a moment.  Only until the realization dashes the haunting smile of the herders of delusion.  The herders who awaken in the late of day to realize they, too, are nothing more than the slaughtered self.  The self drained and molded into a one-thought pool of confused and withered illusion of the conquered masses, and not worthy of the pedestal of the elite of deception.

One might mock the awakening of they, the alleged enlightened, if it were not for the destruction and death filling the air of a world once alive, thriving and proud — now crumbled into unrecognizable ruin.  Instead, sadness overwhelms as desperation reigns in a clutch of loss and hopelessness.  There is no more.  The elite of deceit created the chaos to ensure a kingdom of power and control, but now there is nothing left to rule nor decisions to be made by their sliding hand.  The sought after kingdom sucked into the quicksand designed for the lowly, has become the tomb to encase and reward the delusional rulers who could not see the madness in their thoughts and the devastation of their actions.

Once upon a time, the elite of deception believed themselves above all and entitled to all they wished and dreamed to be.  Now, they fight among themselves to merely survive in the crazed world created by their fanatic lies and selfish movement to destroy the society of the people and mold it into their perception of ideal.  An ideal birthed and now out-of-control and devouring without discrimination.  For it has come to be that no one is safe, not even the elite of deception, who set the madness into motion to feed their greed and bless their arrogance.  An arrogance that madness feasted upon in utter delight, leaving behind wild eyes full of hideous terror and agonizing confusion.

Now, the elite of deception slither in the darkness praying to be spared, but it shall not be.  For the monster they created, shall their destruction seek.  As it was empowered by they, it, too, feels entitled to all it wishes and dreams for he.  It is after all — the power of deception and lies, who knows no friends and holds no loyalty to any — not even to they now in the shadows of madness of their own deceit and delusion.  Not even they.

Copyrighted ©Carrie K. Hutchens 2014 – All Rights Reserved

A Reason for the Season

by Ron Panzer

December 20, 2013

 

You may have had a father

 whose message was,

  “You’re worthless! You’re a mistake!”

  You may have had a mother

 who left without even saying goodbye.

 You may have brothers and sisters

 who don’t even know you,

 Or friends who are gone overnight.

 You may have enemies

 who attack with a virulence that is shocking,

 simply because you speak the truth —

 simply because you are.

 You may feel that life has broken you,

 that you are all alone.

 Others may not know your sufferings and ailments,

while making sure you know about theirs.

You may wonder how it is possible that the sacred

is turned into a crass pitch for something to be sold.

This is the culture of death that mocks all that is good,

and tells you, “Create your own reality!”

while it pushes you onto a foundation that falls away on the very first step.

They’re ready to cheer you one moment,

and then spit on you the next.

It can be no other way, friend,

for those who He chooses cannot have any other path,

This is His path, His Way.

He was born, but more than being born, He lives still!

and asks to live within our hearts today.

He asks us to forgive and live our lives,

in His wondrous sacrificial love.

This is the reason for the season,

not some catchy tune urging us to buy, buy, buy

while they sell, sell, sell.

He is with us always. He is with you!

… ready to comfort, because He truly understands.

He cares and calls to you.

He names you priceless, not a mistake.

This is the reason we celebrate Christmas Day —

the birth of the Saviour, the birth of a Way that leads to Life.

He will never leave you or forsake you.

He is worthy and faithful.

His love is unchangeable!

Come, let us serve Him,

in those He chooses to send.

Come, let us praise and adore Him,

today, and ever more.

jesus-and-holy-spirit-dove

~*~

Permission is granted to share these articles with others, to print them, or post them on other websites so long as credit is given to the author and Hospice Patients Alliance with a link to this original page.

Destiny and Doom To Behold

serpentThe lies slither to embrace and mock all that is.  No breath of truth remains untainted in the bitter battle between the dimensions of calm sanity and the void of madness out-of-control.

Vile names are cast upon any who dare not believe in the madness or agree in blindness to walk to its end at the cliff’s edge.

How dare there be question or challenge in any thought bayed by the elite of all darkness, for they are the gifts from the Universe and all others the weeds of pure waste.  In this they were taught by the seeds of an arrogance bathed in a self-design of importance and now descending to a void and destruction someday to be true.

Alas!… alas poor soul… for evil does prey upon itself.  Soon you… the champion of all that is evil and untrue… shall no longer be the host, but rather the feast to be devoured and mocked into a torment and nothingness you once deemed a worthy existence for all others but you and yours.

Yes, dear soul — it is now your heaven or your hell that shall be served unto you.  For what you have created for others is now your destiny and doom to behold forever and a day.

 Copyrighted ©Carrie K. Hutchens 2013 – All Rights Reserved

The Dark Idol of Enlightenment

demonIn anger I defy you, oh mighty thief of all good that has ever been.  You are a vile creature, who mocks and insults, for your empty vessel has nothing more to offer the moment either then or now or even yesterday.

I walk away from the ignorance of your ways, but you continue to follow and bay in tune with the idol of your thought core-center.  The noise so maddening, yet to you so sweet and pure.

The sickness flows from your programmed mouth, as your eyes flicker in dullness and a cloud of blinding obedience to the one who feeds the senses of pure hate and vile pleasure.

You suggest to live in enlightenment and I in the dark ages of old.  Yet, it is you whose fire has been extinguished with nothing left of self within or beyond.  Your spirit gone, you now exist obedient to they — the master of the flesh.  A master who knows no loyalty nor mercy.  A master who mocks and devours all who dare to call him friend.  For, he has no friends by intent… only fools who feed the beast in delightful ignorance that they, too, have an expiration date stamped upon their fate and no choices left to make.

Copyrighted ©Carrie K. Hutchens 2013 – All Rights Reserved

Nights Alone

Nights Alone

by Jeremy Conway 

Nights Alone

As the sun descends,

And daylight ends,

He knows it’s time,

to walk the walls again,

Always seeking peace inside,

Although part of him,

Has already died,

He searches his soul,

For a way to atone,

So he spends his Nights Alone,

Every Night Alone,

He carries his chains,

But the guilt inside remains,

Wishing they were here again,

Wishing they were here again,

Nights alone,

All his Nights Alone

Jeremy from Twitter  101413

©Copyrighted by Jeremy Conway 2013

Dark Ravens Rise

ravensDark ravens rise in mocking flight as snarls do hiss and serpents coil.  There is no babe in comfort held.  All lies are truth and truth are lies.  The cries of old in silence held.  A mother’s arms no longer are.  A babe in life now twists in death – the hope all gone… no breath to see… cold stillness of pain surpassed … tomorrows to never be.

The naked womb in haunted shame, echoes cries of tortured screams.  How often did the baby plead for a mother’s arms to stop the deed and simply give a chance to be?

Did she know?… did she care?… was there a moment she thought to dare and give a chance for this little life to be?

Or… did the lies rise up to snare still another doubting soul in guise of right and righteousness that is not so and few do see?

A right that makes it good to take a little life in glee breeds serpents tongues and crickets shame to sing upon the world of he and all that be.

A tiny soul in limbo rests while memories haunt and deeds devour the inhumane of selfish ways whose dark voices cry in thought of only “me” and “my” and “I”.

There is no rest for tortured ones as they desperately do wander in search… always in search… of what they can not find… nor ever shall, you see.  For it was a tiny soul clinging to a cold womb who held the light and sparked the fire of what we call humanity.

Copyrighted ©Carrie K. Hutchens 2013 – All Rights Reserved