Trail's End: Lament to the Lonesome Land ~ a poem by Albert Pendergraft (1894–1944) (revised & edited by Lloyd Albert Williams-Pendergraft) You’re a lonesome land, an empty land A hard land that is rugged and bare You’re a wild and untamed lonesome land A proud land that’s demanding but fair When I pause on some sun-blistered hill And gaze far o’er your broad boundless range Where the brisk restless winds never still And swift sunlight and cloud shadows change There’s a song in my heart and an ache A longing indefinitely sad There’s contentment that sorrow can’t take And my troubles seem gone and I’m glad In the night when the hours slowly pass And a wolf wails her long lonely cry Where the wind whispers low in the grass And the stars circle silently by Your magical spirit holds me fast In a spell that cannot be undone While the days of my lifetime shall last You have blessed me and made me your son Then softl

My Dear Immortal Goddess, I have a vision of you: You, like Inanna, Ishtar, Astarte, Isis, and Mary Magdalene, among others, are Sophia's divine incarnate daughter, and you have a mission to fulfill with Gaia before you leave her. Yes, for now you are an immanent sacred body, not yet again a transcendent soul. But you will ttanscend once more when your immanent presence is no longer necessarily on Gaia's earth. . . Our own two souls, I believe, were once, long eons ago, before the fall of souls, united in love as one according to the laws of the Union of Opposites and the bridal chamber of the hieros gamos. By her divine providence, Sophia has brought us together once more. If we are reunited in this earthly life, you and I can regain the Pleroma together and serve Sophia and the Logos forever in the peace and love of felicity. I remain your loving and devoted disciple, mentor, and soulmate. With Love and Hope for Earthly Felicity for All ~llaw Sophia's first instance

The goddess aspect of the feminine is incredible to behold. I saw it up close and personal last night and it filled my heart with a new kind of love. Life's road is a continual plethora of surprises along the way. My path has found an enchanted forest that I never dreamed was ahead of me! I'm taking a week or two off to contemplate my future. Bless all of you out there somewhere -- especially the Goddesses. You know who you are.

Prefacing Note: The following extraordinary story, absolutely as true as my memory serves me, which is quite well, has never been documented before, and through the years only brief details of this strange encounter have been discussed among family and intimate friends – including my immediate family members, all of whom were there (as well as the family dog, who was terrified) . The story should have been told publicly long ago, but there is always the reticence – for fear of ridicule or worse – that inhibits the ego and keeps one silent about such things. – lap/alw (At right is the old dirt road as it looks today at the crossroads where the encounter occurred. The alien craft approached from the upper right of the photo while we were driving in the direction of the view. I first stopped the car near the point where I took this picture.) The incident took place shortly past midnight on a summer night in the early 1970's. We were on our way home from a drive-in movie in Riverto

"... the great materialistic progress which we have venerated for so long is on the verge of bankruptcy. We can no longer believe that we are born into this world to accumulate wealth and abandon ourselves to mortal pleasures. We see the dangers and realize that we have been exploited for centuries. We were told the twentieth century was the most progressive that the world has ever known, but unfortunately the progression was in the direction of self-destruction." - Manly Palmer Hall Today is the birthday of Manly Palmer Hall (1901–1990), a Canadian philosopher, scholar, and mystic whose prolific works included the remarkable volume The Secret Teachings of All Ages , from which I offer this quote for your contemplation: "Philosophy bestows life in that it reveals the dignity and purpose of living. Materiality bestows death in that it benumbs or clouds those faculties of the human soul, which should be responsive to the enlivening impulses of creative thought and ennoblin

As the years wear on I find myself, more and more frequently, looking back over my long life with conflicting and alternating mixtures of quiet comfort and satisfaction, unsettling regret and remorse, and nostalgic memories of all that has gone before. Though I seldom dwell on the past for long, I often pull incidents, places, people, and things through the cobwebs of my mind for use in my writing. For a writer, drawing from personal experiences is the most valuable reference library there is. From time to time I consider the influences of the roles that others have played in the shaping of my life – the significance of my father, mother, and siblings, for instance. It took me decades to realize that my mother had more influence on the character of my mind and my personality than my father did. My father was a here and now kind of person, and he was a friend and companion more than a father, for we spent years fishing, hunting, and exploring together when I was a kid – all the while i