Written by Joshua Nacy I had always thought Augustwas the beginning of fall,bringing the crisp morningsand soft gusts of windthat rustled changing leaves,that played with your hair now. I used to cherish my Septembers,sipped and tasted slowly,Earl Gray with hints of sugar and cream,for the weather had alreadydropped a few

Readers, Have you ever had the joy of interacting with Cairn University’s own wonderful Professor Charlotte Gleason? She is an energetic spirit, a Tigger in her own right, and words tumble from her in such quick succession that sometimes one’s head swims from the pictures painted so quickly and with

They call me a bookworm— a wriggling green insect  with glasses that slide down its noseless face, eating away  at every page it inches over,  hiding between the covers to avoid the outside world.  This picture is only partly true I am no lonely worm,  naive and secluded, but a

Writers have an adept ability to converse, but at times the consequence is a curse. Like bouncing balls inside my head are words and phrases I leave unsaid. Like a fly buzzing around my ear is a story asking to be made clear. Like a fog covering my whole being

Written by Erin Cummings Oh, how the sun of inspiration shines! Rays fall upon the artist in delight. They dance and sing and lift the mortal’s mind. What shame! The clouds have come to cast their blight. Such patient bullies– gray, mundane, and slow, They throw a net of shadow

I say: Don’t go. Wait until I’m gone I know the lake on which you’ll row Still waiting for the dawn We haven’t got much time So I’ll keep my words a few Darling—read these rhymes Remember I love you. You say: Truth is we all are selfish beings Riding

What once was a joyful hope and a prayer was now torn to pieces, never renewed. My heart was broken, for I felt no care. How could tears fall for what I never knew? How could I love so what I never saw? How could my heart ache for what

“Love, which absolves no one beloved from loving, seized me so strongly with his charm that, as you see, it has not left me yet. Love brought us to one death.” ― Dante Alighieri, Inferno You feel cold here, Slipping through my hands like orphan air. The chalice of your

A void fills the dorm now. Chipped paint scarring the walls: Wounds left behind by memory and decorations. Silence reigns where laughter echoed, Bouncing around the room. A single suitcase lays half-packed in One of the last dorms. A single story Half-finished Left behind like the room Wounded by love

Jesus, you felt it The jeering, The “what if”s Disciple or Pharisee, Friend or foe, didn’t Matter see ‘Cause all day, non-quitting: WhyWhatHowWho’sHe Yet you stood By what you said Dauntless, because you could Feel in your bones what we’ve only read: Every step, in His authority Every word, from