Inexpressible- #Poetry of #Love and #Romance

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Inexpressible

There is no Fair Expression my Love can take,

Which would adequately Reveal

The Depths of my Love for You;

For even as Time itself is ever –present

Yet intangible,

My love for You, as Sweet as Breath,

Is Inexpressible.

 

~Morgan~
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Beautiful Image found on Pinterest. Credit Acknowledged for the original Photographer.

#Licensed #Apparel #Inspired by #DarkFey- The #Epic #YA #Fantasy by #CynthiaAMorgan

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Do you love the cover of Dark Fey The Reviled?  (Me too!) Well, now you can get it as a Tee-Shirt, Sweatshirt, Phone cover, Tote bag, Pillow, Beach Towel, Mug, Stickers, …..and even Leggings! (Im serious…and they are seriously amazing!)

see…

Yeah, I want a pair too 🙂  I was notified by my publisher today that this amazing merchandise is now available and I couldn’t wait to share the news!

Check it out…

OK yes Im over the moon…hope you are too.

So here’s the all important LINK

100% Money back Guarantee if not fully satisfied 🙂

Thank you so much for sharing my excitement!  Now I’m off to do a bit of shopping…..

 

~Morgan~

 

#TheHobbit Meets #Dungeons&Dragons – #Epic #YA #Fantasy #Review

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The third installment of the Dark Fey Trilogy was recently compared to J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit and R.A. Salvatore’s Drizzit Do’Urden, a character from Dungeons & Dragons :
4-Star Review by SAG Actress April Wahlin:
Two warring factions of Fey clash in this third installment of the series.
With well-detailed action packed into every sentence, we are dropped right into the fray as Light Fey struggle to rescue a group of Younglings from the Demon Fey. Coming fresh off this conflict, the Light Fey seek to heal their wounded hero and take their next action against the child stealing antagonists.
Along their journey they gain new allies and band together against the brutally of the vicious Demon Fey Lord.
Full of ancient prophecies, colorful fey, and the horrors of battle, this book is definitely for adventurous readers.
If you love tales of Hobbits or the lore of Drizzt Do’Urden, this narrative style will be right up your alley.

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The Reviled are the enemy.  They embody brutality in every form. The Fey of the Light know only too well how savage the Dark Fey can be and daring to think otherwise invites tragedy.

Gairynzvl was once one of the Reviled and lived the riotous life of all Dark Ones, but his acceptance by The Fey of the Light has changed all that.  Now, he is opposing The Reviled by returning into their dark realm and rescuing childfey. The actions taken by him and his band of Liberators are not only changing lives, they are fulfilling ancient prophecies and proving long-accepted beliefs inaccurate.

Those who have lived in the Light all their lives are suddenly faced with unavoidable questions. How is peace achieved? Can Light unite with Darkness? Can all the atrocities the Dark Ones have inflicted really be forgiven?

The Fey of the Light have a deadly choice to make:  ignore the emerging truth or risk the tranquility of their realm and go to war to offer the Reviled a chance to change.

Read Breaking Into The Light’s Editorial and Reader-Rated 4 and 5 Star Reviews

Discover more at the Official Dark Fey Website

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~Morgan~

 

 

Harmonization – #5-MinuteVerses- #Poetry-challenge

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When Shadows Transcend the Ebon Glow

And Whispers Speak of Brazen Unknowns

Golden fire Reaches and Stirs

Delicate Splendor Gently blurs

Rationale

and

Justification

Singing instead

of Harmonization

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5-Minute Verses…Just something I like to do/ am able to to with reasonable success and thought I’d extend the challenge to participate.   Select an image, then write.  Try not to overthink it 😉  I’m usually surprised and pleased with what Inspiration and Creativity share with me and I’m sure you will be as well.

~Morgan~

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Beautiful Photography found on HD Wallpapers.  Credit Gratefully Acknowledged to the Original Photographer. Thank You~

Showers of Blessings- #BeTheChange- A Thought on #Gratitude, #RandomActsofKindness and #Generosity

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thankful

Being Grateful means, by Oxford’s definition, a readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness; having or showing the desire or reason to thank someone for giving pleasure or comfort. Being Grateful means you know you are indebted to someone for some action undertaken by them that benefited you in some manner and consciously acknowledging that appreciation. Gratitude can take unnumbered shapes and forms, from tickets to the hottest show in town to a brand new Porsche (theoretically speaking, of course), but often gratitude comes in gentler doses; a simple inclination of the head, a tearful, wordless hug, a handshake and poignant look into another’s eyes. Yet however it comes, it is one of the most important things we can ever do.

Expressing gratitude rewards; it builds bridges, it alleviates tensions, it sets a higher standard, but it also opens the doors and windows to blessings untold. It sets aside our baser, more selfish tendencies and allows us to be, if only for a few moments, the people we all wish we could be far more frequently. It makes princes out of paupers and, conversely, paupers out of princes; it is a leveler of scores and a righter of wrongs and no matter how it is expressed, if it is genuine, it is always significant.

Imagine, for a moment, that you are a laborer working at some menial job; cleaning bathrooms perhaps, collecting garbage, mopping floors somewhere. Every day you come in on time, do your job conscientiously and without complaint; you leave only when your task is done completely and correctly, but no one ever says a word to you. If you didn’t do this job, the resulting mess would be atrocious, yet people pass by you all the while you work, stepping to the far side of the hall or moving to the other side of the room rather than approaching you and no one, not even your boss, tells you that you are doing a good job.

Then one day, out of the blue, a complete stranger comes up to you and says Thank You. They tell you they truly appreciate your willingness to do a job that not many others would do and they even go so far as to shake your hand, although you are grimy and they are pressed and polished. It only takes a moment, then they go on their way, but their simple act changes everything. You hold your head higher, walk with a lighter step; you go home, tell those close to you what happened, share how good it made you feel and, regardless of the fact that no one, not even your boss, has ever told you how important you are, you value yourself much more highly.

When you go back to work, you feel so good, so essential, you begin taking on extra responsibilities without being asked; you work a few extra minutes each day tidying up or polishing something that has been neglected for months. You talk to people more willingly; you share a smile more easily; you begin noticing the things that others do, which go unspoken, and you take time to extend a token of appreciation to them. A small note of thanks for cleaning the windows so well or a bottle of water for the man cutting the grass outside in the summer heat, and as a result of all of this, you feel even better about yourself.

Not too long after this change occurs, your boss stops by unannounced to speak with you. He tells you that he has noticed what a great job you’ve been doing lately, how hard you have been working and how well you treat your coworkers and the company’s clientele. He explains that a new position has recently been created by management, one for which he feels you would be perfect, and asks if you would be interested in a promotion and a raise. Then he stands back and watches you smile.

And all because someone thanked you.

Yes, Gratitude is a miracle worker, and if we remember to be thankful for our blessings, big or small, trite or unique, miraculous or mundane, our appreciation invariably opens the floodgates and allows Heaven to send down Showers of Blessings beyond imagining.

~Morgan~

#FantasyFriday – The Weapon of an Archangel- A #Post-Apocalyptic #Fantasy #Teaser

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In honor of it being FantasyFriday and the fact that my WIP Angel of Mercy passed 200 pages and 120K words this week, I wanted to share a few snippets about a character that is not necessarily a character and yet, is.  The Sword of an Archangel, which answers to the name of Jshunamir (Pronounced Zshoonawmeer)

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The road to Marçais was 360 miles.  With an attachment of 30 soldiers, 10 auxiliary personnel, two dozen pack horses and a train of 15 supply wagons, including the one turned into an open-air-prison, Lévesque knew the journey would take at least a week.

He did not, however, anticipate the difficulty they would face transporting the Archangel’s sword.

It appeared normal enough to the undiscerning eye; a long-sword forged with exceptional skill, but not unusual.  Upon closer inspection, however, one could see its black leather scabbard, although older than any could comprehend, appeared ageless and bore no mark of any kind upon its luxuriant surface. The blade was etched with runes and indecipherable writing that shimmered with a silvery light all their own, and the edge was sharper than any steel could ever be honed. Even more incredible was its incomprehensible weight.  When Lévesque attempted to pick it up from the beach where it had fallen, he discovered it could barely be moved.  Two men together, then three, then four tried to raise the sword from the sand and drag it away, all unsuccessfully.  They struggled with it for some time, ultimately devising a makeshift sling for it using an old tarp, which they managed to slide beneath it before harnessing the sling to two draft horses to pull.

On day two of their journey, one of the horses collapsed out of exhaustion.  He was replaced by two pack horses, their goods being redistributed among the remaining animals, but on day three the other draft horse needed to be spelled.  The unfathomable burden the sword created required routine cycling of the horses and slowed their return to Marçais considerably.  ….

“We had a devil of a time getting him here.”

“Why?  Was he resistive?”  Shaking his head, Lévesque gestured to the magnificent sword lying atop a small stone dais they had draped with deep black velvet at one side of the chamber.

“Moving him was not the problem; it was his sword that gave us the most trouble.”  The EPP Guard stopped to examine the weapon with greater interest.

“A sword?”  Lévesque nodded.

“Not just any sword.  The weapon of an Archangel.”  He waited, allowing the young man to gaze at it for several moments before continuing. “It required three draft horses, spelled every six hours in a continual rotation to haul it here and the strength of thirty men on a winch cable to get it to where it is now.”  Such a declaration was nearly beyond imagining and the guard’s forehead wrinkled with skepticism as he turned his doubtful gaze back to the captain.

“A sword?” He repeated incredulously, to which question Lévesque smiled magnanimously.

“Please, by all means, see for yourself.  I invite you to take it in hand.”  The youthful officer glanced across at Philippe who was busying himself with the practical matters of preparing their captive for another session, checking the tension of the manacles confining him and placing a leather harness across his head to hold him down.

Unable to accept such an outrageous claim, the EPP Guard stepped closer and grasped the hilt of the sword firmly.  Try as he might, however, he could not move it. Not a fraction of an inch.  It was a mountain resting atop velvet without as much as a bend in the delicate fabric.

“Astonishing.  Yet, he can wield this weapon without effort?”  Lévesque nodded….

Never in all the years of his immortal life had he ever felt such irrepressible rage.  It was not in his nature to feel hatred or violence, but he was not himself.  He was immortal energy bound within a human body.  Growling fiercely, he pushed himself up from the floor, ignoring the intense pain that shattered through him as his wounds reopened. Sauvage had already turned away and was pulling Lourdes against his body, smothering her with a lustful kiss as he tugged the bodice of her dress open viciously.

“Leave her.”  Straining to suppress the violent shuddering that wracked his weakened body, Tzadkiel stood facing them and repeated himself with a more imposing tone.  He was ignored, but he had not defeated legions of Hell’s demons to lie on the floor helplessly and watch so vile a human indulge his wicked lusts. Stretching out his hand, he spoke the word that had been poised on his lips for months.

“Jshunamir.”  His voice was barely a whisper, but at the sound the sword, which had rested atop the pedestal created for it for nearly a year, stirred.  Holding out his hand, Tzadkiel waited, never doubting the result of his word.  The sword rose, spun as if seeking him; then moved with speed that could scarcely be tracked, slowing the instant before it touched his hand.  Looking down at the weapon, Tzadkiel closed his hand around the hilt and clanked the tip loudly against the floor.

The unexpected sound drew Sauvage’s attention at last.  Twisting to find the source of the noise, his eyes grew wide when he saw the Archangel standing with his sword in his hand, facing him with a bold, unwavering stance even as blood streamed across his torn, bruised, naked body.  Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he held Lourdes by a fistful of hair and shook his head.

“Think you can take me in your condition?”  His impudence was only exceeded by his lack of insight.  Tzadkiel glared at him, speaking with intractable aggression.

“This sword answers every command I give it.  If you do not release her, I shall ask it to bury itself in your spine.”

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original Artwork by

Inestimable- #poetry of #Spirituality and #Meditation

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Listen

In the stillness

To the sweetness of the Hush

Thundering

In the Silence

With Peace Soft and Lush

Singing

Through the Whispers

Of All that has been Lost

Reminding

Amidst Serenity

Of the Inestimable cost

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~Morgan ~

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Beautiful original photography found on Pinterest. Credit Gratefully Acknowledged to the original photographer. Thank you~

With You – An Exploration of #Love, #Relationships, #Commitment and #Romance

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Love is a Timeless Endeavor. It is not Fleeting or Transient. It does not turn its face away in times of trouble. It does not look backward, wondering. Love Stands Strong. It Holds Fast when mighty waves crash against it and when storms lash upon the shore. Love is not a Flickering Flame, washed by the currents that brush past it; Love is a Blaze, Burning Brightly, Radiating Fiercely, Lingering Long past the Elemental Inferno, where embers Softly Glow through the long night.

Love is not a shadow, lurking, suspicious and mean-spirited; it is not unkind or vindictive. Love Fills the Souls of Two made entirely for each other and offers an Irreplaceable Opportunity to Cherish and Be Cherished.

Love is not self-seeking. It does not look to its own needs, but only to Another’s. It Helps, Guides, Protects, and Guards. It Waits long past the expected time of arrival, Never Faltering. It Gives Without Recompense and does not wander when there is little. Love is Stronger Than Steal, yet far more Delicate than a Single Strand of precious silk.

Love does not waver or meander, tasting all the temptations along the way, but Hungers and Thirsts for One Alone. Love is Winsome. Love is Magical. Love makes the ordinary, Remarkable. Love Stands on the Mountain and Shouts to the Highest Heaven. Love Whispers just above Perception, Hoping to be heard.

Love is Breathless.

Love is Frenzied.

Love is Patient.

Love is Willing.

Love is truly a Many Splendored Thing.
But Only

When Love is

With You.

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Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov’d,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.
– William Shakespeare Sonnet 116

~Morgan~

A Request … #Fantasy #Trilogy #CoverContest

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Last push..Breaking Into The Light is only down by a few votes! Please stop by, even if you voted already. You can vote each week and it’s super appreciated 😊😊😊

Thank You for your generous support. It means the world to me 🙂

https://allauthor.com/cover-of-the-month/5093/

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~Morgan ~

An Exciting #Fantasy World – #5Star #review

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I’m honored! Just discovered this #5Star #book #review of #DarkFey The Reviled

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ The novel established an exciting fantasy world

July 16, 2019

Verified Purchase

Format: Kindle Edition

I love to read unique texts, and this one certainly is one. The author has a voice and an interesting style of writing, which complimented this metaphysical novel. I enjoy fantasy, especially one that deals with fey or elves, and this one beautifully merges the world of the light and dark fey. I enjoyed the development of the characters, especially the main character Ayla, who won my heart right from the start due to her empathy and genuine willingness to help. I found the character of Gairynzvl most entertaining, as he is the one who keeps being tested throughout the story. There’s a constant tension between the main characters as well as the darkness and light sides, which keeps you turning the pages.

The novel established an exciting fantasy world, and since it’s the first in the series, I look forward to read on.

Review by SacredGeometryBlog

Discover more about Dark Fey

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~Morgan ~

Brazen Reverie – #Passionate #Love #Poetry

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The Hours of Night Pour through the casement,
Secret, Yet Unhidden;
Clutching at my Train of Thought;
An Addiction that’s Unbidden.

Twilight circles Menacing outside the Darkened door,
Her Indigo spread wide;
Cloaking all my Reticence,
Until I’ve nowhere left to Hide.

The Hours strike and echo in this Brazen Reverie,
Impervious to Haste;
With You, Initiative is Sweet,
Though rarely ever Chaste!

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Photograph found on Pinterest.  Credit Gratefully Acknowledged to the Original Photographer and Model.  Thank You~

You and I – #Romantic #LovePoetry

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You and I

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Sweet Entanglement of Blissful Sighs,

You Whisper to my Heart in

Songs only my Spirit knows;

Lover of my Every Whim,

ArchAngel of my Passion and Truest

Minister of my every Dream,

Reach, Sweetest Darling, with Your

Exquisite Hands,

Touch this Love that sends deepest Shivers

Through the very Essence of me;

For All I am,

All I could ever Be,

All I shall ever aspire to become

Already Knows you;

Your most Handsome details,

Your guileless Gaze Whispering

Of All You are,

All You could ever Be,

All you Shall Ever Aspire to Become;

Desire Unified,

Love Eternal,

Most Beguiling Kiss and Enamored Sigh;

Each Second,

Each Heartbeat,

You

And I

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original photography by: ~Jessica1986 on deviantART

One Breath, One Beat – #Love #Poetry

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One Breath

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Impose upon my Heart
Thy Love’s Command,
For I will more Willingly Obey
Than Draw my next Breath.
From Thee Alone does my Love and Life extend,
And if I cannot Breathe Thee,
I would choose to Breathe
Not At All.

Compel my Heart to Pound
For Thee Alone, My Love,
For it would more Ardently Keep
Temperate Time with Thine,
Than Beat a single measure Unaided by Thy Fervor;
And if I cannot Touch Thy Heart,
I would choose for mine to Beat
Not At All.

~Morgan~

Photography found at : http://www.intent.com

Angel of Mercy- #Fantasy #WIP #Teaser

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My current WIP Angel of Mercy just passed 100K words today!  I’m really excited because none of my previous 3 books even came close to that many. No diss to Dark Fey, I love my trilogy, though I do often wish I could go back and add more to the story, but right now I’m focused entirely on Angel.  What is this new story about?  I’m so glad you asked….

Its a Post Apocalyptic Fantasy Romance. It tells the story of life after the first 3 Horsemen, Pestilence, War and Famine, have ridden. In the 4th Era after the Great Cataclysm, (roughly 400 years in the future) the final horseman, Death, is caged and waiting on the Archangel of Mercy to release him. Tzadkiel has been sent to earth in human form to find one human who still understands Mercy. He has been given 100 years, after which Death must be released. With only 4 years remaining, he finds her; a servant named Lourdes, but they must escape the harsh dictatorship of the Eminent Protectorate and find a place of sanctuary before the appointed hundred years are spent and Death is freed from the abyss.

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Intrigued?  Me too!  So in honor of this momentous occasion I’m sharing a short teaser too!

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Her moan drew him out of the dark well of agony he had become so accustomed to and he opened his eyes to look around uncertainly.  He thought he had heard speaking, but could not combat the heavy darkness pulling him downward; yet this soft sound drew him back. Surely it had not been a manifestation of his mind.  Had it?  Was this sound some indication that his mind was attempting to disengage from his tortured body?  Was it like the screams he had heard only moments ago, just a figment of his imagination? Had it been only moments ago or had he slipped into unconsciousness and they had actually been nothing but a dream?  Or perhaps days ago?

His thoughts were a tangle of pain and confusion that made him doubt himself, but then another soft noise beside the table captured his full attention.  Was it crying?  Was it an animal that had found its way into the chamber or had the young servant returned? His thoughts spun for a moment as he considered. Was this even the same day as when he had seen her?  He had no point of reference; his memory was a disjointed haze of anguish, torment, and severing isolation that fragmented his thought into pools of jagged darkness.  They spun slowly, reaching for him, drawing him inward and the quiet calm at its center was irresistible.

He closed his eyes again.

Silence deep and soothing.

Stillness.

“You do not need to suffer this.”  A deep, resonant voice filled the obscurity surrounding him. It encircled his essence like spiraling water, pulling him up from the pit into which he had fallen.  He was himself again, vibrant and strong, the spiritual embodiment of mercy in its purest form. Turning slowly, he searched the blackness for the one who spoke.

“I know.”  His voice echoed as well.

“They only hurt you because you allow it.”  Again, the deep voice echoed into the gloom.  He nodded distractedly, the sensation of the absence of pain euphoric.

“I know.”  The diffuse light surrounding him shifted from golden-white to murky red.

“I wait.” He suddenly understood. It was the one behind him, waiting to be released, waiting for him to be satisfied that there were no longer any living souls of mercy left among the lost throng of humanity, but he wasn’t convinced this was true.  Not yet.  He repeated himself more assertively.

“I know.”

“Time grows short.”  He understood this as well.  He had been given 100 years.  If a single soul could not be found in so vast a stretch of time, then it would be accepted that none remained and the final Horseman, Death, would be released. He had waited all this time, but was obviously growing impatient.  Squaring his shoulders, Tzadkiel pierced the darkness with his deep violet gaze and spoke formidably.

“100 years has been appointed and I shall not be rushed.”  Slowly the murky-red haze diminished back into darkness as a low growl acknowledged the final Horseman’s acceptance that he would continue to wait.

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original Artwork by aenaluck