Spilled Milk, Broken Vases and Misplaced Treasures
Scant fragments... A Collection of Heirloom Memories...
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Mopped and cleaned; of spilled milk . . . Gathered and glued; of a broken vase . . . Lost and found; of a misplaced treasure . . . . My name is Francis. I am an Ancient of old, a Storyteller, a Keeper of a heart's cherished, heirloom memories. I am neither a muse nor an angel, guardian of souls or otherwise. I reside nowhere, but linger where needed, for as long as the need be. I have existed for a long time. The whole of my existence is to find hearts that share a breathing soul. Hearts that shelter and guard their lives' stories, like precious jewels, yet yearn to be shared; stories that giv...
Mopped and cleaned; of spilled milk . . . Gathered and glued; of a broken vase . . . Lost and found; of a misplaced treasure . . . . My name is Francis. I am an Ancient of old, a Storyteller, a Keeper of a heart's cherished, heirloom memories. I am neither a muse nor an angel, guardian of souls or otherwise. I reside nowhere, but linger where needed, for as long as the need be. I have existed for a long time. The whole of my existence is to find hearts that share a breathing soul. Hearts that shelter and guard their lives' stories, like precious jewels, yet yearn to be shared; stories that give account; of love; given and received; of the sacrifices made, with boldness or fear--be it wrong or right. Through the daily struggles . . . of walking through fires, leaping unbelievable mountains, overcoming temptations, keeping from drowning in a world already confounded and in much conflict. Adler and Dulcenia Havnejgerde's lives were entwined from the very beginning; they together tidied and cleaned spilled messes, gathered and glued broken pieces, and in the dark found, that which was once misplaced, given up for lost.
