*#0382 True Live Events and The Risk of Life in the USA and The Naomi Lynn's World ๐๐!
#0382 NO HOLIDAYS THAT MY FAMILY HAD IN 10/2019,2020,2021,2022 2023,NOW for Life , BECAUSE OF KLAMTH FALLS,OREGON AND THE STATE OF THE UNION NOW , BECAUSE OF SOME PETTY PEOPLE OUR WHOLE LIVES FOR NO REASON AT ALL!
Thursday, April 17, 2025
Easter is this Sunday and the accusers and my daughters ruined it for me and my sons and grandchildren for pure hate to us for no reason at all, Happy Easter Sunday my family and Real victims who are True to me like I'm true to you 2025 ! Easter Sunday marks the central belief of Christianity, the resurrection of Jesus Christ. It's a celebration of Jesus's victory over death and the promise of new life, eternal life for those who believe in him. It's the culmination of Holy Week, a period of reflection and remembrance leading up to the joyous celebration of Easter Sunday.
Thursday, April 10, 2025
April 10,2025 >
Tuesday, April 8, 2025
The Stolen Child Poem of year 1889
Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There weโve hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the worldโs more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the worldโs more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the worldโs more full of weeping than you can understand.
Away with us heโs going,
The solemn-eyed:
Heโll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the worldโs more full of weeping than he can understand.