Tor Magnor Solvang

The stars are scattered, dust of light,
Across a velvet, endless night.
A universe so vast and deep,
Where secrets sleep, and planets keep
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Sixty-six stories, a river so wide,
One message whispers, deep inside.

From Eden's dawn to Heaven's bright door,
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A whispered word, on Patmos' shore,
John saw a King, forevermore.

Not just a past, a story told,
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From cradle small to final rest,
A lesson learned, a constant quest.
Life's gentle school, where we all grow,
A winding path, both high and low.
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A truck driver named Larry, bold and bright,
Had a dream that took flight, a funny sight.
A lawn chair, balloons, forty and five,
He thought he'd gently rise, just to thrive.
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In Boston town, where freedom grew,
A mighty bell, for all to view,
Will ring again, a joyful sound,
As SAIL250 sets the bound.
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A tweet from the past, brought back to light,
Charlie Kirk's words, in black and white.
Not for deer in woods, nor fear at night,
The Second Amendment, in his own sight.
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Long ago, in Roman lands,
A time for gods, with fertile hands.
Lupercalia, a feast so old,
Stories of springtime, brave and bold.
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In forests deep, where shadows play,
A maiden walks, come what may.
The Huldra fair, with golden hair,
A beauty bright, beyond compare.
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Life's a road, so long and wide,
With twists and turns on every side.
Some days the sun shines, bright and bold,
Some days the story's less like gold.
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Life's a shift, so some folks claim,
From where to where, a guessing game.

We're made like Him, so stories say,
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Long ago, with mighty sound,
Earth's giants crashed all around.
Plates pushed hard, a mountain grew,
Norway's spine, strong and new.
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The river calls, the sun shines bright,
Six days we paddle, morn till night.
The tent we pitch, the fire we make,
Adventures bloom for goodness sake.
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A gilded cage, a shadowed hand,
Power held across the land.
Blind eyes turned, a whispered plea,
While innocence could never flee.
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A poet's heart, the world's true beat,
A voice that speaks, bitter and sweet.
Of truths that hide, and fears that loom,
Said in shadows, chased from the room.
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On Patmos isle, John, old and worn,
A vision saw, a truth was born.
Around the year ninety-five,
He wrote it down, to keep alive.
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A seed He sowed, a story told,
Of lost sheep safe within the fold.
No heavy law, no rigid rule,
But lessons learned in life's own school.
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The crowns and idols, dusty now,
A bygone age, we all allow.
The stories told of kings and queens,
Belong to books, to painted scenes.
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The old story, sharp and clean,
We came, they fell, a losing scene.
But new clues whisper, soft and low,
The truth is deeper than we know.
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A little stream, so small and new,
Started a journey, among green and blue.
Through fields of grass, and trees so tall,
It trickled on, under nature's call.
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