and The First, know well . . .




The Gift,  of Faith

( A Season’s Ring )

and,  as the

Whisper of Winter’s Breath,

carries the last leaves of Autumn

far from the loving Arms of Home,

away,  to golden Fields of Our Past,

and lesser Days cast a longer shadow

upon all that might have been,  remember

always,  that Hope flies eternal,  and Wishes born

in the Prayers of Children,  live on in The Hearts of Angels,

as their Dreams,  walking hand in hand with God’s Grace,  become

the Spirit of Promises to keep,  for the Joys of all they can be,

lie waiting,  in The Eyes,  of

      Tomorrow . . .




may Christmas find U all,  wrapped in The Presence,  of Peace on Earth . . .



whether to build an Empire . . .

October  9th,  1997


For Whom It May Concern



perhaps I could write a conventional, conversational paragraph . . . after all, it was the preferred mode of voicing my heart and mind for what seems like forever . . . although, I must warn you, I have a tendency to slip into ~uniVerse~ without being aware of it . . .

beyond my work, and family, and the ever-present awareness of the blessings of both, my time is centered around an obsession called The Story . . . a symphony, if you will, which illuminates both its creation, and its fulfillment . . . and because each event, person, and circumstance in my life is a part of this melody, my first obligation, is . . . to listen . . .

my endeavor is to understand the process of living, and our subsequent spiritual progression, and to determine how the lessons illustrated before us become the knowledge, and therefore the reason, ever woven within the fabric of our humanity . . . and through this collective wisdom, comes the significance of our purpose, within the tapestry, God’s grand Design . . .

beneath the surface of our ordinary existence lies a rhythm, or balance, or essence, that binds our idea of spiritual oneness with our sense of place, or belonging, within this universe . . . and I am truly fortunate enough to have been blessed with the gift of knowing how to hear the sound of this extraordinary tale . . .

and the sound I hear, is Light . . . and The Light, has penetrated deeply into the corridors of my heart, moving as liquid, as phantom, as butterfly, toward the transformation of each and every Truth, into the words and images on each and every page, where I wait, patiently, until all have passed through the gates of your infinite awareness . . . and I, remain, the last man, standing, before you . . .





born in the gleam of God’s adoring eye . . .



‘lo, through a Crack in The Sky

( a Rush, of Wings )




the Albatross,  whose name has always been Steadfast,  holds within his unwavering eyes the first pristine spark of a SunRise,  now bringing the long-awaited promise of the return of The Light of Day down across the fields and the forests of the Land of Because, down through the corridors of the human heart,  where once was whispered the Music of Angels,  and down ever still into the depths of Oblivion,  whose memory now tries to forget,  all of the darkness we will soon cease to remember . . .

and gazing westward,  which will one day be called EveryWhere,  the Albatross slowly turns to regard the Urth,  now hanging by a thread,  so fine and silver,  and woven from the Tears of Heaven itself,  and he smiles,  because he knows that his long and lonely journey through the endless Kiss of Night is over,  and that all he had ever been asked to do has been done . . . and he lays his sweet sorrows down along the Rail of Sighs,  in the very same place,  where once there laid a handful of nine-inch nails,  whose traces still scorch the time-worn face of Regret,  that are now and for Ever etched into the redwood timbers of the now complete spoke of The Great Wheel, that Always had built as one, of The Seven Bridges of Why . . .

and as The Dawn of The Ages lifts higher above the horizon,  and flows as liquid down upon the realms of Certainty,  the Albatross finds himself standing within the quickening presence of a moment that even Eternity has long been waiting for . . . and from out of the blue,  the Sister of The Sun of Man walks toward him,  and with a nod from Patience, and a smile from So It Shall Be,  She walks on past, and into the embrace of all that Yesterday could ever have hoped for,  and all that Tomorrow could never have known . . .

and walking with a determined pace,  with the might of Titans defining the strength of Her divine purpose,  She steps out at last into Her Universe,  so long denied Her,  and so long and lost in the throes of blind and belligerent desire,  and She lifts Her welcoming arms up with the Grace of Swans, and to the galaxies swirling in Her Eyes,  She speaks . . .


ease My Reign


for Her name, is Mercy,  and She has come, to seize, The Day . . .


*       *       *


and deep in the star-fields of the Dominion of Always,  in a place well within the reach of Her infinite regard,  and so perfectly balanced inside the sound of Her voice, a pale-blue gem in a sapphire sky slowly turns to face Paradise,  where an Ibis,  born Resolute,  gazes out across the Shores of a place once called Camelot,  out across a new whirled now bathed in flows of Compassion,  where fireflies dance amidst the laughter of Her Children of The Clouds,  and where roses now grow without the burden of thorns, and where a butterfly now rests upon the back of an Iron Horse,  who finds himself standing still, and staring in wonder at a trail of footsteps left where the sand meets the foam, and revealing the presence of The Prince of Peace,  walking once more and in the distance, and there at the edge,  of The Sea,  of Love,  Again . . .





while under an august Moon




The Origins, of Kindness

( what Always, said, to Ever, when Ever, said, GoodBye )



go, My Darling, and do what U must do,

and I will never, think the Less of U,

and whereEver U may wander,

and whereEver U may fly,

take My Light to guide

U, so that Wonder

      paints, Your Sky . . .

and to savor This,

of Our Last Kiss, as

each Morning gives Promise

to The Day, remember Always, that I

     love U, and as Always, My Love will light, The Way . . .




from the Crucible of Love







The Ivy, and The Dove




as Time’s wake

draws Its shadow across

The Corridors of Her Heart,
o              o
She looks to The Universe,
upon Her Celestial Sea,

a Nocturnal Velvet

of Her Dominion,

toward The Shores of

Avalon, toward Her Sunrise,

      a shimmering, and distant, Cyan Sky . . .

She remembers, Echoes of Days, and Nights,

Long Ago, when Her Fireflies laughed at The Moon,

as They walked as One, along The Path to KnowWhere,

quietly regarding Their Reflection in Pools of Innocence,

Windows of Each Other’s Eyes, in Their Secret Eden,

under The Gaze of a Mockingbird, Their Sentry,

before whom All shall pass, She remembers,

when They danced, across The Heavens,

when They sailed across The Sea of Glass,

when They made Love in The Fires of Creation,

when Their Whispers in The Morning ignited The Suns

of Skies Beyond, when, from Their Blessed Union was born
I I I                         I I I
The Light of The Millennia, Eons Ago, She remembers, and waits,

as Always, at The Point of Eternity, for The Return, of Her Love, Again,

yes, She remembers, a Time before Memory became The Well of Fallen Tears,

She remembers The Days before Infinity cried, The Days before The Music died,

She remembers, and lights a Candle, and smiles, longing for Ever Still,

yes, She remembers, and as Always,

      She will . . .





from Book III – The Diamond – The Eighth DoveTale – The Bridge of Dreams



for a very dear Friend,  of mine . . .




the fire in passion’s i



and with an intensity of pure emotion that overshadowed all that ever came before, even in their dreams, and a fevered rush of purpose rivaling the power that ignites the Sun, they pledge their fidelity to the sea of Stars above them, to walk all the moments of Eternity, to capture just one tear falling from the face that is the grace of God, and to savor it, to cherish it, from this moment on, until all their moments fade . . .

and all at once, they heard a Sound, soft and slow, yet with an enduring rhythm of what surely must be Light, cast from a very distant fire, rising as a golden wind, an echo of the millennia, roaming for ever all the days of Infinity, forging the very framework of their deepest desires, melding their hearts as one, delivering them the whisper of a promise, that this time, and this place, has been touched by the feather from the wing, of the Angel, of Love . . .






from The Voyage of Kings ~ A StoryTeller’s Dream  The Kiss, of Always


The Voyage of Kings ~ A StoryTeller's Dream



buy the new Digital and Print Editions on Amazon and Barnes&Noble





that once and glorious Because




she had never known a feeling such as this before . . . the midsummer’s eve of her life, up to this moment, had left her wanting, had left the bittersweet taste of regret, of seas not sailed, of horizons not found, and tomorrows not lived . . . and of love once glimpsed, once touched, once embraced, but now, as elusive as the fragrance of roses, there, yet not seen, there, yet not felt, only a whisper, and not quite a promise . . .

the fruits of her labors were abundant, and her memories lasting and long-savored . . . her family, her home, her husband, her son, all were precious jewels in the richness of her life, the elements of a contentment that once shone like a crown . . . but all were becoming the faded images in the portrait of her soul, like the dust of an age lying quietly on the windowsills of Yesterday, like blue-gray ivy adorning the walls of her mind, like phantoms, like butterflies, weaving through the empty corridors of her heart . . .



from The Voyage of Kings ~ A StoryTeller’s Dream  The Kiss, of Always




The Voyage of Kings ~ A StoryTeller's Dream


buy the new Digital and Print Editions on Amazon and Barnes&Noble