Love

I've not written on here for a while but it has given me time tho think.
I am constantly being amazed by the sacrifice Jesus made for the world and for myself. I know that I am forgiven and am going to heaven and that fact makes me gasp when I realise just how much it is that I have been given.
I do not deserve God's love but I have been given it and I am eternally grateful.

Spring

Spring is upon us. The birds are singing sweeter songs than ever before and everybody can feel the earth warming up around us once again.

Snowdrops are springing up here and there as though the Goddess Demeter has walked here. She is happy once again because her daughter, Persephone, has come up from the underworld, where Hades keeps her prisoner for six months each year. In these months her mother, Demeter, walks the earth mourning and weeping tears of ice for her daughter, that is why we have Autumn and Winter. But in Spring Persephone returns to her and Demeter is so happy that wherever she walks springs instantly into life. It is such a beautiful story, I wish it were true.

Recently I discovered a beautiful thing about the planet, Neptune. On Neptune it rains, like on Earth. But, instead of raining water it rains diamonds. I would love to go to Neptune somehow and see the diamond rain, it would be a thing so beautiful that it would take one's breath away. At least, that is how I would react.

I wish

I wish that I had been born in the days of King Arthur. I think that I would have fitted in a lot better if that had been the case. But, as we cannot choose when we are born, I can only dream of such things.

If I had been born in those good years, I hope I would have been a princess or a Lady. I would have had a handsome knight for whom I cared more than anything and he would ride away on quests, brave and dashing, and I would wish him Godspeed. But he would always return home to me.

Maybe I would have learned to weave and to use a loom if I had lived then. It would have been so wonderful.

But now, I may only dream.

Beauty

Remembering the time of our youths,

once lost, now golden forever. Soft

like the rain that strokes the gentle land

in streams of love and gratitude.

Watching the wisps of powdererd age

grow weary and slow with wondering.

Searching eyes of mystery flow through

the memories of years to come, and wash the

stained horizon of our youths.

I think this is a beautiful poem. It was written by my sister, she is beautiful and very talented. I hope that one day I may live to be like her. Although, sometimes we have disagreements; there is nobody, other than God, that I would turn to before I turned to her.

We have shared so much together and we share the same memories, making us smile, laugh and cry.

Then

It has snowed a foot. Father says that it is just like when he was a boy and it was winter. And now, at last, the deep snow and happy laughter of children has returned to Leeds. Just like then, just like now.
It makes me feel like I am sharing a childhood memory that belongs to Father and he is re-living those times except for now I am in them. He looks very happy. Every time he looks outside a smile plays around his lips. "How deep is it there?" he asks me, naming all his old haunts, now mine. He loves to talk of his childhood to me and to see my interest and delight at the things he used to do.
I love my Father and I love sharing his memories re-lived.

Snowy

Snow is such an amazing thing. It is so beautiful, white and stainlessley pure. It always looks so soft, settled there on the cold, hard ground.
Snow always looks so soft and gentle that it takes great amounts of self control to prevent yourself from scooping it up into your hands. And when you do hold some of the oh-so-soft snow in your hands it is always a suprise when it bites you with it's chill. Somehow, we manage to convince ourselves that this particular snow is much prettier than the snow we held in the past and this snow won't bite us, it is far too pretty for that...

Alone

It is snowing very heavily and all the schools in leeds are closed. Except for my school. The buses are not running and we are all alone, in school. The curtains are closed on the pure, blinding whiteness outside. It is a different world to how it is in here. In school.
I shall have my lessons alone today for nobody else is here that i am in lessons with. It shall be very lonely.