..The Passing Of A Dream..

In the closing of a season and the passing of a dream, you were perhaps one step closer to the wind than I could ever have been. No matter the storms I had weathered, or the port to which I wanted so much to return, brace against every silent longing to slip away again, our journey remains forsaken.

You would not accept happiness or peace, believing you deserved neither when you deserved everything that ever offered itself to you, without care or condition. Without knowing that a heart given in hope knows not of pain or the weathered years of loss, you closed the door in everything but voice, one step closer to the wind, freedom, in the passing of a dream.

Lord of The Rings.. There And Back Again

As I child I read the four Tolkien books, from The Hobbit to The Return Of The King with the kind of wonder and joy (and sometimes horror) that only a child can have. Recently I re-read the books, – for the perspective that only ones later years can bring. I did not want to watch the movies until I had done so, because that vision that my childhood held of the world of Middle Earth needed to be tempered by my thoughts on having re-read the series again. Those memories of childhood years were only made stronger in the re-reading so I took it upon myself to pick up the LoTR Extended Edition on Blu-Ray.

I would think it fair to say that I have a new favourite movie amongst the many that have held that title over earlier ages. There is more emotion in one chapter of The Rings than there is in the whole of any other trilogy (that may or may not involve lightsabers.) No story comes close to the magic and wonder that Lord of The Rings holds. All of the key lines from the novels are there, and while some key elements are changed, such as the manner of Saruman’s ending, the vision Peter Jackson brought forwards for the series is superb. The books are still better than the films in my eyes, however the series has managed to evoke Tolkien’s world so well that it has turned into something of a re-imagining in the same way that JJ Abrams reworked Star Trek. The books and the film are not perfect replicas of one another, however they go hand-in-hand in the finest sense of gestalt.

I’m glad I waited, because the Extended Edition trilogy is without doubt the finest rendition of this magical story I may ever see. It drains you of every ounce of emotion and leaves you with more hope for humanity than any broken fairytale. If there is one story you owe it to yourself to read before your years wane, if there is one story to be passed on to your children, this one is it. Should the world end tomorrow, I would be glad for the fact that I had taken in this story of a world of elves and men, dwarves and orcs, and known that there is a message for all of us beyond any savagery fortold, beyond everything. That the enduring love of unforsaken kinship remains our greatest strength. It stood the test of time at the ending of the 3rd age, and perhaps at the ending of the 4th, it will stand strong again.

A New Beginning..

After a couple of years in the wilderness, we’ve returned once more, however with the first of the Armageddon books complete, this site will remain a portal for all the random musings that enter my head (can chickens swim?), along with news on future work.

You’ll find links for all current and future work on the Armageddon page. I do hope you’ll stop a while and take a jump into the world of Ensina Prime. Its journey has only just begun.


I held you in my hands, feeling the arc of a life that had run in circles in search of something more, deeper than this tenuous existence. You’d been through much to endure seasons of hollow rain and endless shadow. Eased apart in the rain that fell between us, washing so much of our cares away beyond regret, your roots shone in the light. Delicate and wistful, knowing only of the want and need to lay down upon the earth once more, feel recompense for the storms that tore you from your world. Your new home, almost complete, verdant and more than able to nurture this tender soul.

You rest upon my window, and greet the morning sun with me, feel the warmth and hope that such light will in time be the only thing that we see. And for all the seasons where you stood with me as the rain fell, reminding me that we both had as much a chance as any to see this storm through, know your roots gave me strength when my own had long since faded.

We all have roots, all have our place in the world, and no matter how deep they reach, or whether torn from the places and people we cherish, there always remains the chance to lay down once more upon this earth, take root upon a world and life that often lays unclaimed..

The Kite..

Soaring far and wide across Autumn skies, I watched and wanted so much to be a part of that distant treasure. Seven, and painfully aware of a world without casual gifts, a world that was mine alone, I chose to make my own kite, out of broken branches and a piece of discarded tarpaulin. Her name was Conchita. Tied together with rope and with a fishing reel for flight string, she was beautiful, and heavy. I beamed with pride as I stood at the edge of prairie-land and ran with her, waiting for the wind to catch and pull her upwards. And as heavy as she rested upon me, so did my heart fall heavy as I ran and ran, only to find the lush grass her only resting place. For day upon day, I took her out, hoping that she would fly. And in that stubborn streak that has haunted me for all these years, lay her salvation.

I never noticed the storm build or the clouds roll silver into blue, but I felt the wind tug deeply against my soul, and knew this would be her time. She flew, ungainly and awkwardly at first, but soaring farther and higher than I’d ever hoped. And in the distance where kites were left torn, shredded or pulled from the moorings of tiny hands, mine remained deep in the grip of a storm never thought upon or wished for. I could not have been more proud, or more glad for a world that offered a solution to every problem, given time and persistence. I never flew her again, but I learned more from that one precious summer, about not giving up, or giving in, or thinking that I could ever know what the world had to offer, than I could have ever known from not taking the chance on a hope that one day, we could all know what it felt like to fly..

Little Gifts..

They come to you when least expected, far from thought and far from any sense of salvation. Unspoken and often lost amidst the worries of a world that often bears little resemblance to anything we had ever hoped to dream of. Home once more, with far, far less within me than I had upon leaving. A darkness torn asunder, driven from the depths and perhaps purged for long enough to feel some semblance of humanity again.

And as I sat here, knowing only silence and the slow passing of a summers storm, I found your words and knew what it meant to truly love someone, enough that I would give the life that remained should it ever be needed, in return for making you whole, bringing you back to a world we’ve both struggled to hold onto. For this much, I could do nothing but smile, and try not to let these feelings fade amongst the passing of days where you are not so strong, and I am not so close to you. So thankyou, because without you I would have not had the strength to continue, or the hope for a time when we would both stand on that shore and know what it means to have these small moments, little gifts, that make our world worthwhile..


In the passing of a season and the birth of another stormfront, we remain chained to our mortal coil, both stubborn enough to hold onto that line against which we all pull to shore. And seeing you as you were, I would take what you have in a heartbeat, leave you free to take your world in both hands and draw back the dusk left beholden to our dreams. While these waters run deep, dark enough to not bare clarity, the sands upon which we rest our hopes know of better times and an understanding that I will not forsake you, or leave you unsure of our course.

So stay the course, stay with me, and know there are no acceptable losses. These will neither be the drawing days of our journey or the final hours of our time, take me by the hand and find calmer waters where once we knew no end to the surge. Stay the course, stay with me, unbroken..