Christine St.Croix
Bio
Native American. Writer. "Cast the Shadows of your love upon me and don't look back. Don't walk out that door and into the wilds of unknowns and forget the love I hold in my heart for you, for us... "Evolve... A Transformational Journey."
Stories (26/0)
PAINTED IMAGE...
Who is the beauty of the painted image that haunts the stillness of the winters glass... She knows not the noble lineage that courses though her royal veins. Blessed with beauty and a tender heart; She wields the power of magic within her words, as she carries the mark of the serpent's eggs within her left hand.
By Christine St.Croix2 years ago in Poets
Heart of The Carpathian Mountains...
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Nor had there been high in the Black Hills of the Carpathian Mountains for nearly thousands of years now, but the old folk tales were about to be made real. Nestled deep in the Carpathian Mountains, the castle walls rose high into the night sky, as the thunderous voice of the storm roared out before the claps of lightning streaked across the sky with a madding cry. The winds whipped the windows panes as the rain pelted the face of them like hard tiny pebbles being thrown across the stained glass. The fire roared within the chambers of the highest tower of the castle. A golden blue rim chalice set upon the table was filled with the finest aged wine. Incense and three candles in a circle slowly burned. A fine smoke began rising into the air creating the shape of the golden dragon of old Draco now flickered and sparked from the candlelight. The Queen’s handmaidens hurried to help the royal birthing mother at the queen's side. The Queen was in great distress as the birth of her first child was fast approaching with all the pain a mother could bare.
By Christine St.Croix2 years ago in Fiction
Transitions...
Transitions in life are not meant to be easy. They are meant to be transformations of the extraordinary, ordinary kind. Out of the darkness one struggles to exit the womb, where earth becomes one's home, and life's cold, wet, painful breath gives a cry in the struggle to be born.
By Christine St.Croix2 years ago in Poets
The Promise...
I can count a thousand things I want to say to you. Can you hear the whispers in your ear. The clarity of your eyes gave me clarity of mind until you drove me mad with worry and desire for you; into the night you walked the last road of your life, the light guiding you into the shadows under the moons silent gaze and into the vast known of the unknows.
By Christine St.Croix2 years ago in Poets
Raven Queen...
"What is the story of your life," I asked myself one fine day. "Do you feel as though you are not who you truely desire to be in the cosmic scheme of things. Let me fold back one of the pages of your mind; To take your soul on a journey through the spiral-of-infinity to tell you the secrets revealed by pure consciouseness, in the here and now."
By Christine St.Croix2 years ago in Fiction
The Old Wise One...
The long winter days are calling me to sleep while 'The Old Wise One' watches over me. He quietly whispers ancient secrets never told to those who could not hear. For Futures told must be forewarned to only those who's lessons one desires not repeat.
By Christine St.Croix2 years ago in Poets
Universal Soul
I was born by water. Poured out of the univeral soul in stillness... I raged against the stillness to fight the boundaries that held me on a fast rushing current I called my mind. I was boarded by what made me earth bound. I longed to be free of that elemental facet that I was manufactured out of. Parts of me broke free and rose into the air, a fine and gentle mist rising in the heat of the noon day sun. Floating... feeling a slight evoluation of changed, I gathered with the dark souls of brothers and sisters in like fashion, masquerading as the thunderous voice of God. Lightning split the blackened sky and flashed across the mountain ranges. I fell with a thousand others in a black mass of death; pallbearers, one to another in the midnight hour we raged one against the other upon the dry ground, and gathered again into the spring time falls, as a collective one. I lay still for the first time. No longer having the need to rage. I made peace within my soul. The wind no longer pushing, rushing my mind. I remained still; finally willing to give into what I have become, and in that stillness, as you looked into me, I found me silently starring back in the clear light of a new dawn. I am free. I say, "Let peace rain in the hearts and souls of each and everyone of you, this blessed day. As we embrace who and what we are in the light of each new day, our mirrored self, silently reflecting back to us a loving self embrace." Christine St.Croix 5/16/2016 P. 5/20/2022
By Christine St.Croix2 years ago in Poets