beneath a Cyan Sky

The Nearing

 

Pools of Innocence

 (  The Shimmering  )

 

 

Quiet was The Mockingbird,  as I draw nearer,  and The Look in Her Eyes told Me of Her Purpose,  as Sentinel,  before Whom,  All shall Pass . . . with a Nod of Understanding,  I move closer to The Edge,  and the sudden Stillness,  takes My Breath Away . . . The Stream,  as if told by Nature to do So,  slows to a Halt in front of Me,  becoming a Ribbon of Glass . . . and Now,  finally within Reach,  I kneel down beside a Pool of pristine Clarity,  and gaze into It’s Secrets,  and as I begin to fathom The Reasons,  There,  slowly rising to The Surface of Knowledge,  up from The Depths of Wisdom,  emerging phantom-like,  to rest upon The Windows of My Eyes,  I see,  Her Face,  Again . . .

 

 

 

from Book II,  The Sword ( Second Sound ) The Eleventh DoveTale – The Chariots of The Sun

 

 

 

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