Little saint
I thought we chose your name
It turns out you had chosen your name
You spoke in a soft whisper to us nudging us to make our decision
Of all the names we liked and considered
It’s clear your name was meant for you
Little saint
That’s exactly what you are to so many
You exhibit love, happiness
You remind others there is light in darkness
Little Saint
Whoever you grow up to be
I know it’s someone filled with love and light
About the Creator
Anne
blogger, content creator and mama
find me on socials: @paranneting @anamesa_anne
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Obsidian Is Alive
I live in a realm of darkness and curiosity, where the very ground conceals secrets and riddles, the answers to which are well beyond my reach. The cavern beneath Mount Etna is a maze of contorted rock and hidden riches, where daylight never shines, and the shadows of torches and the ghostly phosphorescence of cinnabar are the only illumination sources. I am fascinated by the cavern's beauty: the stalagmites, vast columns of rock that ascend from the ground like titans and are studded with gleaming adornments and stones, capturing sunlight and creating a treasure-trove of wealth and fascination. One stalagmite, however, stands out: a gigantic monolith of completely unreflective obsidian that glows blackly, swallowing light and color. I am drawn to it by a magnetic-like force; though Clement tells me it will boil to the touch, I am not frightened. Indeed, when I put my palm upon it, I am startled by the device's warmth; it is red-hot, pulsating with unseen living energy. Clement explains it is a conductor, a turning device that draws and converts all force it contacts.
By Owen Belen4 days ago in Poets
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