valentine edition post www.amazon.com/Reversal-Rocco-Scibetta/dp/1480847771

valentines day edition

www.amazon.com/Reversal-Rocco-Scibetta/dp/1480847771



      What becomes a legend most?
  Candy?   Ordinary.
   flowers?   Maybe.

 candy, flowers, and a modern Romance to peak the interest of your sexy Valentine ?

Why Not?

Be that person...
    
Make a gift of my book  " Reversal"

Don't hide it divide it.

THE LEGEND OF CUPID

Franz von Stuck

Let me tell you a story.

            Once upon a time, Apollo left his shining sun palace to roam the Earth. Before long he met Cupid, who stood with his bow bent, his string drawn. Cupid was ready to shoot humans with his arrows of love.

"What are you doing with a bow?" the great god laughed. "Warlike arms are not for boys like you. You must not use my weapon!"

"So you think!" Cupid said angrily. "Let your bow shoot what it will, and I shall shoot those I wish to shoot," and with that Cupid beat the air with his wings and drew two magic arrows from his quiver. One was cast in shining gold, and with its barbed point, Cupid inflicted wounds of love. The other arrow was made of soft silver, and its tip had the power to create hate.

Cupid took aim and let the silver arrow fly into the nymph Daphne, daughter of Peneus, the river king. The moment Daphne was wounded, she fled into the woods, for she no longer desired the company of men.

Then Cupid turned and shot his golden arrow at Apollo, piercing his arm. "Ha, though you think you are powerful, love is more powerful even than you," Cupid said.

Apollo laughed again and walked into the forest, but suddenly he spotted Daphne. She was chasing a deer, and as she ran, her golden hair billowed around her slender neck. Her eyes shone brightly as stars and her form was as graceful as the deer she chased. Apollo fell instantly in love with her.

The nymph was swifter than light, but Apollo gave chase. "Oh, nymph," Apollo called, "daughter of Peneus, why do you run from me? I am no common man. I am a god of the sun, and my force is great. Alas, Cupid has wounded my heart, and though I am the god who discovered the art of healing, I cannot heal my love for you. Please, Daphne, please come to me."

But Daphne did not stop. She flew from Apollo, calling out, "I want the love of no one."

As the two ran through the forest, Cupid hovered above, a smile on his face, for he knew that even the great god Apollo could not overcome the power of love. And as for Daphne, Cupid knew that the arrow of hate had pierced her thoroughly. She would run forever now from those whose hearts brimmed with love for her.

Apollo raced on, close on Daphne's heels as she ran toward the river, home of her father. "I am coming, my beloved," Apollo called. "I am close now. You will be mine."

Daphne could feel the god's breath on her skin. She quickened her pace until, at last, she reached the river's edge.

There, on the banks of the river, Daphne stopped. "Father," she called, and she felt Apollo's hand touch her shoulder. "Father," she called again. She trembled and turned pale, and could no longer catch her breath. She was exhausted.

Daphne looked down at the river, her heart filled with fear and sorrow. "Save me, father," she called to Peneus. "Save me from Apollo. Cupid has wounded him, and he will never rest until I am his. I want only the freedom to live in these forests forever. I want to be forever free. Save me, father. Help your daughter, Daphne."

A moment later, as Apollo stood beside her, his arms ready to embrace her. Daphne felt a heaviness come over her limbs. She raised her arms, but as she did, they grew thick and hard. Apollo leaned close, but his eyes widened as he watched his beloved. She was changing, right before his eyes.

Bark covered her limbs. Her golden hair turned dark, then green, and soon she wore only leaves. She took one step backward, and when she did, her feet became rooted to the ground. Her arms were now tree limbs, her legs a trunk.

In the sky above, Cupid smiled in triumph. Apollo watched in wonder. Neither spoke, so the only sounds in the forest were the wind as it gently swept through Daphne's leaves and the gentle rippling of the river.

Peneus had granted his daughter's only wish. In the deep silence of the forest, Daphne had become a laurel tree.

"No," Apollo cried. Tears filled his eyes. "I love you," he whispered and embraced the tree.

"Beautiful Daphne," he said, "since I cannot marry you, I will make you my tree. From now on my hair, my lyre and my quiver will be adorned with laurel leaves. I shall make certain that conquering chiefs receive your wreaths as signs of victory. You will wear your green bay leaves forever, winter and summer. You will never be bare, my beloved."

When Apollo finished speaking, the laurel bent her boughs in assent and her leaves murmured.

Cupid looked with happiness upon Apollo, who had learned the strength of love.

And ever since that day, all men and women seek the laurel and praise it for its beauty and strength.

Happy Valentines Day.

apples from the garden of Eden/amazon

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BONFIRE STUDIO OF THE VANITIES: The Dog days of winter abyss- Special thanks and...

BONFIRE STUDIO OF THE VANITIES: The Dog days of winter abyss- Special thanks and...: Hey everyone, Let me begin, by Thanking all my friends and bloggers and literature enthusiasts across the board, for helping make my rece...

The Dog days of winter abyss- Special thanks and how to overcome the lack of sunshine blues.

Hey everyone,

Let me begin, by Thanking all my friends and bloggers and literature enthusiasts across the board, for  helping make my recent campaign for ;
APPLES FROM THE GARDEN OF EDEN and REVERSAL  a  success.
We love you guys, you are the best.

      I hope everybody had a really good Holiday season, now with that behind us-"sadly" it is time to trudge through a new year.  

   These are the dreaded Blues-grays I like to call them; dead January and Frumpy February. But even these are  a vital part of the growing process. a time to rest and regroup, uncover the hidden wisdom in some old black and white movies... Learn something new from the old. classics, beautiful and brilliant.

    Books old and tattered are an excellent source of memory and warmth. Hot cocoa and tea, exotic coffee from a far-off mountainside on Hawaii or Brazil can transport us to tropical fantasy. As David Lee Roth the eternal California son once observed- " I want my feet in the sand and a drink in my hand." Bravo ! my friend, I concur. But till then we here on the east coast will have to wait it out; with only our radios iPhones and sacred old texts of forgotten lore to comfort us.

  As someone, much  wiser than myself once reminded me; There is really" nothing that new under the sun." Some might beg to differ, but after careful examination at the end of the day, most things are reinventions of ideas that have been here before.  Even Technology with its bells and whistles shiny objects and brain simulation serves mostly as a vehicle to exchange information at the speed of light; maybe faster.Not an idea much different in its Germaine form as Guttenbergs was when he first laid plans for the printing press.
  
      So, despite the blue grays, there is one thing that February brings and that is Valentines Day. 
      So, let us rejoice in the simplicity of Amore, and toast the supernatural quality of mild insanity that love brings to those who have been smitten.

Let me end with a poem that was written many years ago,  with hopes that its magic should always endure.

                                            In the days of youthful love,
                                               Sweet hours...
                                              Forever dreaming...
                                              In the silence of love
                                               Quiet.
                                               To itself
                                               In the stillness of its own meaning

                      As Always, with best personal regards, 
                   I remain very truly yours. 
                    Rocco,