In The Arms,  of By and By

 (  The Circle,  is Unbroken,  Still  )

 

 

*

*

*

in

The

Morning

of Love,  Again,

and seen,  Living,  in

The Eyes of a Butterfly,

as told,  by an Iron Horse,

there came from The East,

a great and winged Flyer of

endless Velocity and Grace,

sailing low in The Sky,  aloft

in The Glory of The Sun,  Up 

in The Path of Her Spirit Wind,

moving as Liquid above The Sea,

having flown,  All The Days of Infinity,

having endured the long dark Kiss,  of Night,

the Fire Dove glides to rest upon The Rail of Sighs,

and,  She looks,  out across These Shores of Her Longing, 

remembering a Morning long Ago,  when an Ibis,  born Resolute,

began Her Voyage to Avalon,  bearing This Burden of Destiny’s Heart,

This Crown of Roses,  who Now lays Them,  Here,  at The Feet of Yesterday,

who smiles,  and gazes toward Hope,  who turns,  in Time,  to see A Wink,  dancing

in The Eye of So It Shall Be,  while There,  in The Distance,  rising Up through The Mist,

with a Terrible Beauty,  bound for  Moments Yet to Come,  and a Purpose known only to God,

laughing with The Moon,  goes Ever,

The Last ThunderBird,

     Home . . .

 

 

 

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