Freedom

This is my Scotland
This is my country
Fearless warriors, bold foxes, strong hearts.
This is my Scotland.
When the flag flies high over Holyrood
People see and know
That the pow'r we have is granted
That the strength we have is inherited.
This is my Scotland.
Where the heather grows dry and purple
Where the wind rushes past like hurricanes
Where the joy of the people is undying
And they dance
Whirling in this devilish hootananny.
This is my Scotland.
And I don't mind the Queen
And I don't mind the pound
And I don't mind when the tea is brewed
And I call it British
Good and British
But this is my Scotland
My homeland
And I am as proud of it as my father is as proud of me
I love my Scotland.
I am in my Scotland.
This is our Scotland.
Let her colours fly free.

All my books

In my book of dreams
There are one thousand themes
A thousand genres
That write an epic
In my book of thoughts
There are one thoughts knots
That tie the fate
Of one poor orphan
In my book of ideas
There are one thousand seers
Who predict the future of
An unwell land
In my book of songs
There are one thousand wrongs
To balance every single
Little tight
In my book of plays
There are on thousand ways
A thousand paths
To walk down
In my book of years
There are one thousand angel tears
That captured the essence
Of the evil beast
In my book of myths
There are one thousand will'o'the'whisps
That lead the young girl
To her mother.
In my book of love
There is a single dove
Who brings the story
With her
To all those who will listen.
In my book of hate
Its too late
And the story lies forgotten
Never read.

Extract from "Zoltan" tentative title.

I looked at my brother proudly. My small fourteen-year old heart pounded in my chest, the spirit of all our people with me. At my side I felt the presence of my uncle, likewise as happy as me but more cautious of our presence in the Principalian crowd, and the others behind me. As a group we were the white snow in a blanket of summer, staring up at the procession and following them with glee.

People stared at me, but I did not care. I called out to Frederik with cheerful glee, shouting at him, "Fred, Fred!" and he waved back as he rode past.

The bannerman who had initially bumped into me struggled to get further away, but with the crowd to one side and the procession to the other he could only suffer my joy. My wave blocked part of his vision, my flag blocked his as I waved it erratically, and around us people let out small gasps. But what could you do when you were young, barely a beginner mage and irrevocably and irreversibly admiring of your older brother?

The crowd and the bannerman would just have to suffer and wait. It was my time to love who I was and where I was from, along with my companions who were the lone Narvegans in this ocean of Prominenes.

Things

The love I bear for thee
Is beyond the realms of knowledge
Somewhere in the cosmos
Is a machine that can process
The tenth percent
Then it will suffocate
And die
There is nothing more than existence
Of magma, galaxies and stars
Nurseries, births and deaths
Lego men standing tall
Elves of green and flowers
Yet none of them can compare
To the extraordinary depth of what
Love actually means.