More old stuff – a Fairy Tale from days long ago gone by …



He was the Dream-Slayer,

And she wanted to hate him

Because he is the one who had seen the tiny cracks,

The fissures in her soul,

And who had driven a sharp wedge deep into them

Until the cracks widened leaving

Her shattered soul broken into a million

Little pieces, each one holding a broken Dream.

He was the Dream-Slayer,

Yet she could not bring herself to hate him,

For she knew that she was ultimately responsible

As she had been the one who opened the door

To her heart & beckoned him inside

And she is the one that showed him each

One of her vulnerabilities so that 

He knew just where to stick the knives.

He was the Dream-Slayer,

And though she had been warned about 

Letting men like him see inside 

Her carefully crafted & sturdily 

Constructed Tower of Independence,

It only took One Look from his piercing eyes

And she knew that there was no turning back

From his advances, nor did she want to do so.

He was the Dream-Slayer,

The one with no regard for anyone’s needs

Other than his own dark & desperate desires

And though she clearly saw the darkness

Spilling forth from beneath the mask he wore,

She was helpless against it as it ever so slowly

Began to seep from his core & lap at her fortress

Like murky waters swirling beneath her feet.

He was the Dream-Slayer,

Yet he made one fatal mistake in that

He did not recognize the Power of the Light

That was so intense that it ultimately held him at bay

With the warmth of a Love he could not comprehend

In his frenzied state of insobriety where he

Wanted nothing more than to satiate himself

In over-indulgences of depravity.

He was the Dream-Slayer,

But she belonged to the Light-Maker, 

The One who gently & softly retrieved all 

Of the fragile pieces that were the remnants

Of what was once her heart

And ever so gently yet expertly

He bonded them back together in such a way

That they became a brilliant kaleidoscope.

He was the Dream-Slayer,

But she was the Damsel Fair.

For though he had plundered her very Soul,

In so doing he had in reality freed her 

From her Tower of Imprisonment

And now she possesses a deeper beauty

That mirrors the best & the brightest

And which chases the Dragon back to his lair.

He is the Dream-Slayer,

But she is the Damsel Fair.



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I am a Southern Belle, through and through. Born and raised in North Alabama, where my family settled in 1808, when the area was still the Mississippi Territory, I come from a line of Planters, Patriots, and Pioneers. They were people who were unafraid to take risks, who said what they believed, and who honored God and their Country. Like my ancestors before me, I have strong values, believing that the Golden Rule is indeed golden. I write as a way to relate and as a release. I hope that my words may inspire, challenge and provoke one to thinking about how extraordinary things can come out of ordinary places, people, and things.

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