Slowly, slowly, walk the path, And you might never stumble or fall. Slowly, slowly, walk the path, And you might never fall in love at all. Golden, golden, is her hair, Like the morning sun over fields of corn. Golden, golden, flows her love, So sweet and clear and warm. Lonely, lonely, is the heart …
Something about the new Bower unsettles me. I can’t decide if it’s the unfinished nature of it, my reluctance to rebuild a Land without My King. I fear I shall never be able to recapture the Dance of Gwyneth and Janus. It might be just the seeming immaterial-ness of it all. Is that even a …