between The Sand, and The Foam

 

 

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

 

 

 

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