Worry

I tend to worry. A lot. This has become more prevelent with a great many people I talke with and converse with. Our society, and in a way, life as we know it has become economically more difficult. An entire mis-placed generation, all of whome remember 9/11, graduated into a bad economy, watched gas prices soar, and ipad sales plumet are not prepared for what is ahead of us. We stay in contact better, but spend less time having genuine conversations. There are all kinds of things to worry about. America is in more than a slump now, I believe it is a spiraling effect which we may not claw our way out of.



Pish and tush! what's all this negative thinking?! Not on my blog, you sir, get away from here. *blows shaggy hair out of eyes* sorry about that, my master occasionally posts here. Now then, how about something positive and slightly goofy? After all, that's what this ruddy blog is supposed to be about. Not counting the rabbits, who had a party of their own last night, I wandered off after their third game of *find the cookie* Myself I took on a walk to admire the starlight and to see if I could find that hill I was at the other day. I found it, with smoke pouring out of the chimmney, and a deep throated song from behind the door. Entering quietly, I gazed sadly at the sacked pantry, then wandered over and took a nap near the fire. there were plenty of dwarves, many of whom petted me and scratched behind my ears. They were singing too. This was the song I had heard:

"Far over the misty mountains cold
To Dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day,
To seek the pale enchanted gold

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

On silver neckaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hing
The dragon-fire in twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the misty mountains cold
To Dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves
And harps of gold; where no man delves
They lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by men and elves.

The pines were roaring on the height,
The winds were moaning in the night.
The fire was red, it flaming spread;
The trees like torches blazed with light.

The mountains smoked beneath the moon;
The dwarves they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled their hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the misty mountains cold
To Dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!"