Alone in the girth of thought…
treading into the badlands and the good.
I make a pilgrimage pass the stations of the cross.
A pair of still in life…eyes, watching my every move.
After a deep contemplation…sin is what it is…synthetic.
I am not the carpenter of this ill-fated altar!
Cardinal wine and jewels and mythology shun me.
What is constructed has been done so…
In eulogy to the…Father.
Random thoughts, poems, and opinions. *Opinions are subject to change. - Nathan Harrell
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I am Brangien [Brangaine] of Weisefort, Ireland, lady-in-waiting to my cousin Isolde, who became promised to King Marc of Cornwall. His nephew Tristan escorted us to England by ship. But Tristan and Isolde fell in love at sea. As ye may know, or will find out, they cite the philter they drank as the cause, over which I was supposed to keep vigil. I would like to share my perspective of how I have created good in the world through my herbs and observations. There is much to tell, including how I have adopted this odd language. In good time. My life is in God’s hands. –Inspired by the modern French translations of the Tristan and Isolde texts
And he saith vnto them, Follow mee: and I will make you fishers of men. Matthew 4:19 (1611 KJV)
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