and He wrote and He wrote for the next two thousand years, through our agony and our ecstasy, and the sum of our fears, and He wrote of each moment of each day of our past, through each chapter and each verse, as though they might be our last . . .

so every dream and every wish that Ever had heard since then, could one day fly away beyond these follies of men, and all that remains of His candle so bright, are these very pages, from long-ago ages, of a Kingdom, of Light . . .

 from The Voyage of Kings ~ A StoryTeller’s Dream   The Prologue – Once Cast from a Distant Fire

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