I have 3629 stories published in
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Thunder gods grow older; their lightning bolts grow dim. My father towered over me; now I’m taller than him. Now time has turned him from a god into a wizened elf
Then I saw the Angel of all nature; saw her garbed in an endless gown of blue; felt soft drifting wings and held her halo. Now, I’m certain my faith in her is true.
What is it that seduces men to war? Why choose the hail and thunder to adore? Why not the snow white dove or crimson rose? Why can’t man be content with such as those?