Monthly Archives: July 2011

Her River of Light

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The Wings,  of Grace

  

 

and far,  far away,  in a Land of Endless Grace,  with a Night of Ten

 Thousand Suns,  The Eyes of Heaven cease Their Vigil,  to witness,  and to

     wonder of this Promenade of Eden,  this Choreography of Paradise . . .

 and with The Majesty of Swans,  The Mother of Dawn slowly raises

      Her Hand to brush the tears from Her Face,  and nods Her Head . . .

The Angelic Warrior,  Soldier of Virtue,  without name or number,

gracefully turns His Mien of Valor to face His Legion of Stars,  Her

Children of The Clouds . . . scanning the Night Sky,  on His Boots of

Yellow Fire,  with The Power of Infinite Love,  thundering as The Roar

 of Lions through His Soul,  He lifts His Sword of Truth,  and points toward

 Destiny,  a brilliant blue Planet of The Sea,  and,  as a Golden Wind,  as an Echo, 

     He whispers . . .

*   *   *

The Light,  of The Millennia,

cast,  from a Distant Fire,

roam,  It will,  for Ever,

      The Path,  of My Desire . . .

 *   *   *

and The Light of a Candle,

 borne from The Heart of a Child,

borne from a Sea of Glass,  reflects

 on His gleaming Blade of Honor,  and

       flies through The Windows,  of Her Eyes . . .

and,  as if The Skies of Heaven were to crack

      from the Intensity of Her Love,  She smiles,  Again . . .

 and within The Time of A Wink,  and The Gift of A Promise,

The Chariots of The Sun fly away on Her twighlight Path,  spiriting Them,

       Guardians All,  on Their Voyage to The Sea,  a Voyage of Kings,  on Her River,  of Light . . .

 

 

 

from Book I,  The Ring ( First Light) The Sixth DoveTale – The Grace of Swans ( conversion )

and

from Book III,  The Diamond ( Third Beginning ) The Eleventh DoveTale – The Whisper of Fulfillment

 

 

 

and The Choreography of Stars

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O

    ^^

         ^^

 

The Cliffs,  of Andromeda

 (  Perseus’ Pursuit  )

 

 

 

                                                                                                                               I

        will nEver begin to embrace The Very Magnitude,  of Your Devotion,

        until I capture the true Meaning,  insighed Your EverLasting Heart,

        and for as long as We breathe the same Air,  for as long as We

        awaken to the same Sun,  as long as We listen to the same

        Silence,  as One,  I will walk,  in The Comfort of knowing

        The Paths I follow,  among The Galaxies of Your Eyes,

        will Always lead Me,  Home,  to The Very Point,  of U . . .

                                                                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

from Book III,  The Diamond ( Third Beginning ) The Tenth DoveTale – The Cliffs of Andromeda

 

 

 

when Longing weds Desire

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The Promise 

  

 

               I gaze out upon The Sea,  as The Dawn slowly pours over Me . . . It’s brilliant Pageant of Light dances upon My Bed of Jewels,  where I laid,  under a Blanket of Stars,  to while away The Night’s Passage . . . after a Moment’s Reflection,  and a Prayer to All Things Dear,  I set out toward The Palace,  Once Again,  along The Shores of Eden,  along This Path of Tears . . . and in The Time of A Wink,  My Eyes behold an Image,  a Woman,  of profound Splendor,  walking toward Me,  as if I,  were Her Intent,  as if I,  were Her Reason . . . beside Myself with Wonder,  I could only Hope . . .

                Still,  at a Distance,  for I cannot yet see Her Eyes,  Her Body pleases Me . . . The Sand,  The Sea,  The Sky . . . All are in extreme Clarity,  yet All are completely intangible . . . My Focus is The Spectral Masterpiece in front of Me . . . My Adrenaline is a fevered rush,  and I must command the last vestiges of My Self-Control to resist shattering . . . I keep walking,  struggling to maintain a bearing of Serenity,  and forge onward . . .

                I feel Invincible,  though dwarfed by The Magnitude of Her Presence . . . I am Alone,  with My Trepidation . . . I am Alone,  with Her . . . She moves,  as Liquid,   with a Grace that startles Me,  and She is as Natural to Her Surroundings as is Sunlight,  possessing a Radiance all Her Own . . . She is closer . . . I can see The Smile I have sailed The Millennia to see . . .

                The Sense of Time has abandoned Me,  along with involuntary impulses to breathe . . . Feeling has left My Fingertips,  and My Vision,  save for Her Aspect,  is dimmed beyond Acuity . . . External Light sources are fading,  and All Sound is in retreat . . . conventional Mind synapses are lost,  and core Body functions subsist on primal drive . . . My Mind,  or what remains of It,  is a spinning Vortex of pure,  white hot Awe . . . My Heart,  echoes The Roar and Velocity,  of a Triphammer . . .

                 Her Eyes . . . Eyes that could send Armies into Oblivion,  cause Empires to rise and fall,  The Seasons to unwind,  Suns to blink,  and ordinary Men to Their Knees . . . Windows to Galaxies . . . Her Eyes,  Thresholds to The Oceans of Awareness,  and All that lies beyond The Realm of Understanding . . . and Somehow,  despite the immense Universe of Her Aura,  I remain standing,  walking,  closer . . .

                 The Air seems to be vibrating softly,  but with a Purpose,  as if The Sky were about to crack from The Intensity of mere Thought . . . I have stepped within,  surrounded,  by The Colors of Her Essence . . . as Her Voice crosses The Distance between Us,  spilling over Me like Cool Water . . . I can see Her Words,  flying,  like Jewels across The Cyan Sky,  and I am The Sky . . . She is speaking to My Heart . . . to Me . . . I am spellbound by The Intimacy,  and I must respond and I cannot,  for My Voice became dust,  long ago . . . Closer is no longer possible,  for I am,  where Here,  Is . . .

                Stonemasons,  Artisans,  Poets,  Painters,  and Sculptors down through Antiquity,  have never captured The Loveliness of a Goddess such as She . . . Her Face,  is a Classic Vista of Wonder and Perfection . . . A Mirror of flawless crystal could never cast a Likeness to compare with The Beauty before Me . . . and I am Ever humbled,  in The Presence of Her Majesty . . .

                 I am within Her . . . I am born Anew,  yet I have lost all Sense of Self . . . Desire has become My Master, though We have yet to Touch,  for I feel I would require The Sanctification of Nature to do so . . . yet She,  as if knowing My Thoughts,  and with The Grace of a Swan,  nods Her Head,  and slowly raises Her Hand,  toward My Face . . .

                No Man,  Gone or yet Lived,  has known of This Rapture,  even in Dreams . . . The Fire of Anticipation rivals The Core of The Sun,  burning All Senses . . . to be touched by Paradise,  is to be made One with Her . . . I have never imagined being worthy of This Gift,  of This Ecstasy . . . oh yes,  to dance with The Muse,  in whose Embrace awaits the seldom heard Whisper,  of Fulfillment . . .

                Her Hand caresses My Face,  as She would The Wind,  like Silk across My Skin . . . The Rhythm of Life flows through Her,  and electrifies My Soul . . . and in The Breath of A Moment,  I know All that is in Her Heart,  for She has given Me Her Own . . . She is Earth,  She is Air,  She is Light,  She is The Dawn . . . I stand before Creation’s Daughter,  and I am blessed,  for She,  is The Angel of Love . . .

                 I am wrapped,  within The Music of Her Being,  and I,  begin,  to cry . . .

 

 

 

from A StoryTeller’s Dream ( Dream I ) The Second DoveTale – The Pillow of Hope

and

Book II,  The Sword ( Second Sound ) The Seventh DoveTale – The Robes of Honor

 

 

 

between The Sand, and The Foam

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of Kingdoms,  Come

 (  and Gone  )

  

 

A small piece,  by

 most standards,  pummeled,  and polished,  by

 countless hands,  just a bit of gold that had witnessed the light of

a billion stars in a myriad of skies,  since its first purpose,  acquired a pair of

shoes for a carpenter,  who plied his craft on boats down by the river . . . odd indeed, 

the notion of a poor tradesman falling under fortune’s favor,  by possessing even one in a

lifetime,  for its faces were accustomed to nobler cuts of pocket or purse,  lined with a finer

cloth or the rarest hide . . . stranger still was the voyage of this coin of a realm,  once cast to

honor the folly of men,  and an empire now two millennia dead . . . by land and sea,  across

times and continents,  marking a journey of simple and stunning complexity,  a coin,  all

battered and worn,  yet with a hidden splendor,  waiting just below the surface,  lies

shining,  in a morning sun . . . until one day,  a woman,  guided by the grace of

God,  walking along a path of friendship,  beholds a reflection,  and

lowers her hand to touch the rose,  emblazoned for

      Ever,  upon her heart . . .

 

 

 

from Book I,  The Ring ( First Light ) The Sixth DoveTale – The Grace of Swans

 

 

 

In The AfterGlow

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Still Falling,  Higher

(  of Wings,  and Prayers  )

 

 

a delicate,  pale-blue Sparrow,  without even a Name or a Number,  and fresh from The Shores of a pale-blue Gem in a dark velvet Sky,  called Avalon,  stares with unblinking Eyes upon the vast,  and venomous Maw of Oblivion,  waiting,  well past The Reach,  and just beyond The Edge,  of Her fading,  and now forgotten,  unCertainty . . .

She is poised,  not by dare nor design,  yet knowing,  beyond a Shadow of Doubt,  that All that has come to Pass,  ended,  Here,  and,  as sure as the very next Breath She will take during this Journey,  will begin the First Moments,  of All that will come to Be . . .

and so Far,  She has flown,  so Far,  from The Fields and The Forests,  of SomeTime When,  carrying with Her,  The Dreams,  The Desires,  and The Music of Men . . .

and while this Night begins to pale from The Light of The One,  and The Moon slowly turns,  once More,  to face The Advent of The Sun,  whose Smile,  heralds Her Return,  to The Land,  of Love,  Again . . .

and,  with a final Thrust,  born from The Strength of Her Conviction and Courage,  She pushes off from Her Place upon The Hopes of Humanity,  with Wings outstretched to embrace the eternal Whispers of God,  which will guide Her,  unerringly,  into the wide and waiting Arms of FullFillMeant,  and knowing,  so well,  as She soars at Last into The Absence of Her Fear,  that behind Her,  lifting high into The Realm of Their Significance,  and,  with The Might of The Majesty of Titans,  come Tens,  of Thousands,  More . . .

 

 

Still Falling,  Higher

(  of Wings,  and Prayers  )

 

 

i

A delicate,  pale-blue Sparrow,  without even a Name or a Number,  and fresh from The Shores

of a pale-blue Gem in a dark velvet Sky,  called Avalon,  stares with unblinking Eyes

upon the vast,  and venomous Maw of Oblivion,  waiting,  well past The Reach, 

      and just beyond The Edge,  of Her fading,  and now forgotten,  unCertainty . . .

She is poised,  not by dare nor design,  yet knowing,  beyond a Shadow of Doubt,

that All that has come to Pass,  ended Here,  and as sure as the very next Breath She

     will take during this Journey,  will begin the very First Moments,  of All that will come to Be . . .

and so Far,  She has flown,  so Far from The Fields and The Forests,  of SomeTime When,

carrying with Her,  The Dreams,  The Desires,  and The Music of Men,  and while this Night

begins to pale from The Light of The One,  and The Moon slowly turns once More,  to face

     The Advent of The Sun,  whose Smile,  heralds Her Return to The Land of Love,  Again . . .

 and,  with a final Thrust,  born from The Strength of Her Conviction and Courage,

She pushes off from Her Place upon The Hopes of Humanity,  with Wings

outstretched to embrace the eternal Whispers of God,  which will

guide Her,  unerringly,  into these waiting Arms of

FullFillMeant,  and knowing,  so well,

as She soars at Last,  into The Absence of Her Fear,

that behind Her,  lifting high into The Realm of Their Significance,

     and,  with The Might of The Majesty of Titans,  come Tens,  of Thousands,  More . . .

 

 

from The Voyage of Kings – A StoryTeller’s Dream,  Dream III

 

written in Honor of the Mother of My Son,  who passed from this Life,  in June of 2011

 

 

In The Realms of Because

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 All for The Wrong’s Reason

(  Angels,  fell  )

 

 

far,  far Ago,  an Angel named Bright Morning Star,  after quite long and careful Thought,  decided one Day to ask God a simple Question,  Father,  what is The Purpose,  for which,  I will nEver be allowed to see Your Face ? . . .

and after a grand and glorious Deliberation with HimSelf,  while pouring over All of The Whys and All of The WhereFores in His Great Book of Deeds,  after gathering each Bit of Memoranda from His voluminous Catalogue of Intent,   and certainly but diligently checking The Minutes of His deeply inspired and ageless Magnitude,  God soon discovered,  that there was,  no Answer . . . and in order to keep The Meaning of Life fully intact,  and to preserve a nEverEnding River of Souls to tend to The Multitude of His Affairs,  and,  so as not to keep an Angel waiting for far too long a Time,  in the very Throes of His Discontent,   God quickly decides to forestall any Decision on The Matter,  and promptly issues a Decree,  that hereby states . . . that any Angel,  who henceForth demonstrates a complete and profound Deficiency in The Faith I never gave Them,  will be subject to spending an Eternity,   living on a Place called Earth,  wondering why . . .

 

 

 

from Book II,  The Sword ( Second Sound ) The Second DoveTale – The Sea of Glass

 

 

 

The Myriad

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10,000 Candles

 

 

i

Your Heart and Soul,  are The Essence of FriendShip,

for They,  are The Jewels,  in The Richness of My Life,

so light a Sea of Candles,  with The Fire of Your Spirit,

      and lace a Ribbon of Love,  inside this Web,  of Pearls . . .

 

 

 

from Book I,  The Ring ( First Light ) The Ninth DoveTale – The Windmills of Eden

 

 

The Echo

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The Echo

 

 

On This Day,  there shall come a Sound,  soft and slow,  yet with an enduring Rhythm,  rising as Golden Wind,  to capture The Souls of all Men,  and to embrace The Hearts of all Women . . . from This Moment on,  until All Moments fade,  The Sound shall be known,  as The Breath of Angels . . .

Now,  Alone Together,  with The Fire of Life in Your Eyes,  You will stand with Hearts as One,  and talk,  of Days to Come . . .

The Voyage is upon You . . . place Your Hand in Each Other’s, and feel The Dream,  The Desire,  and The Devotion . . . Your Hearts will surge with joyous Anticipation,  as You navigate The Oceans of Promise and Fulfillment . . . You are to become The Treasure of All Dreams,  for if You laced Each Moment of Your Lives Together,  with fine Silver Thread,  more Precious would They be,  than a Web of Pearls . . .

A Bond of Freedom is forged,  to explore YourSelves through Each Other . . . Every Moment shared,  is a Testament of Faith . . . in Your Purpose,  Your Path,  and Your Passion . . . Together, You will grow,  and harvest All that Life’s Bounty has to surrender . . . and A Bridge of Gold awaits,  crossing One Hand to One Hand,  One Heart to Another,  Two become One,  and One,  is Always for Ever . . .

Imagine a Place,  where it Rains only when You Wish,  and Wishes come True only when You Smile . . . or of moving a Mountain of Shadows from Your Heart,  with just a Touch . . . or of searching The Heavens for The Truth that lies within You . . . or of gazing into The Center of this Most Blessed Union,  for The Light that Always shines There . . . Imagine Love . . .

And Tomorrow,  in The Final Pages of Your Story,  when The End is just A Beginning,  You will sit, Once More,  with Hearts as One,  and talk,  of Days Gone By . . .

 

 

from A StoryTeller’s Dream ( Dream I ) The Third DoveTale – The Gates of Dawn

 

 

 

Vox Aeterna

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on the Doorstep,  of unCertainty

  

 

Heaven,  waiting,  as though having caught Chaos holding its breath,  and the Tide of Reason lay unmoved,  as if by some unforgiveable weight of doubt that had rested upon its surface,  and the Moon slowly turning to face an empty Sky,  for the Legions of Stars had quietly faded from sight,  without leaving even a trace of the Light they had shepherded across the Millennia,  and therefore assuming that its Memory was all mankind needed,  to escape what might have been,  and to embrace,  what could never be imagined . . .

 

 

The y in Myth

 ( and the i in faith  )

 

 

amid the mindless horrors of our daily Existence,  and the endless gathering of evil’s dogs about us,  and the knowing full well of the outComes within Heaven’s glorious Intent,  there still lies within the ever-fading darkness an undeniable breath of unCertainty,  whose very essence moves so phantom-like beneath The Smile on The Face of Because,  and unbidden,  lays its long and loathsome shadow,  aCross,  The Heart of The Reason Why . . .

 

 

 

from The Journals,  as yet unpublished,  and unremembered