while under an august Moon

 

 

 

The Origins, of Kindness

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

.

.

Flamei
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 . . .

 

.

.

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what no one Ever knew . . .

and what no one would Always remember . . .

 

June 10th, 2010

 

 

 

and on This Day

( there came a Sound )

 

One thousand and ninety-six mornings ago, we awoke in an altogether different place, in an altogether different time, with an altogether different path laid out before us . . . while the accommodations were not the best, nor were the immediate vicinities on anyone’s most favorite destinations, we were neither worried nor did we care about such trivial things . . . for our particular journey was not prescribed upon any map, nor chosen through the clicks of search engines, nor suggested by any once and former traveler familiar with where we were destined to go . . . just a general sense of where our lives were bound, and an overall hope that we would certainly find such a place that coincided with our dreams, and a rare and wondrous feeling of adventure, combined with a devil-may-care attitude dwelling within our hearts, that no matter where the road might lead us, we were surely to find our way home . . .

and home, was an unknown, unexpected, yet undeniable understanding that was born from the strength of togetherness itself, and it all began because two particular and purposeful people had fallen in Love . . . and it was this Love that bound our spirits and held our wings aloft, as we circled endlessly, embraced in a sapphired sky, high above the vast and verdant terrain that would one day become the pinnacle of our desire, to build a castle nestled in the clouds, and close enough to Heaven that even the Stars would move aside, to allow this great and glorious dream a chance to become one with our lives . . .

and after wandering over what seemed like every hill and every dale, strewn across every mountain and all their majesty, we finally found our place on top of the world . . . and over the course of the next three years, after facing each and every obstacle that came our way, each and every circumstance designed to impede our progress, each and every drop of blood and sweat drawn from our unstoppable faith, each and every tear of uncertainty shed in our unfailing hope of fulfillment, at long last, our dream has come so near to fruition . . . and still, after conquering each trail and mastering every tribulation, we now face more uncertainty than ever before, and not yet knowing happiness, and we have yet to find peace . . .

and these, are the things I wish to address, if only to put them in their place, if only to let U know that I care so deeply that they weigh so heavily upon our collective soul, if only to assure U that these, too, shall be overcome, and, if only to tell U that this is not what I ever had in mind for us to endure . . . never imagining the immense and seemingly endless financial burdens placed upon your shoulders most of all, those that U have quietly borne without complaint, and the myriad of sacrifices U have made without grievance, of missing friends and missed opportunities, and the ever-present shroud of not knowing what is to come of our future here . . .

and no matter what we attempt, no matter where we try, and no matter how much we deserve a respite from the pressures of living with the sum of our choices, I stand before U, in awe, and to give thanks, for not only your solid and steadfast belief in this dream, and therefore in me, and always in us, but in the quality and blessing of your amazing courage, determination, and patience, without which, the ~who we are~ and the ~why we are~ would never have survived . . .

and while I know these words do not do much to allay our fears, or put food on our table, or ensure that the lights will continue to burn in our windows, it is all I have to give U, and ever from my heart, as they have been from our beginning, and yet so bitter-sweetly ironic that they were the primary spark from which this dream was ignited so long ago . . . and all born from the undying hope that keeps my spirit alive, that one day, I might lay at your feet, a life where each and every promise I have made to U, whether spoken or imagined, is allowed to be fulfilled, and thus completing the task I was put on this Earth to do, by the Hand of a God so incredibly and blessedly compassionate enough, to have granted me the supreme honor of being chosen, to be the one, to try . . .

on This, and every Birthday, U will ever know . . .

 

 

 

 

 

between the sand, and the foam

November 8th, 1999

 

 

of Fathers, and Suns

( for Evan )

 

on the Shoreline, where I walk, caught between the wish, and the wave,

if Tomorrow fails to shed His Light, I will treasure, All that He gave,

and still, if this Tide should fail to return, across Heaven’s shining mile,

      I will walk, all the Days of Infinity, to find the Kingdom, of His smile . . .

 

 

 

 

 from The Voyage of Kings – The Ring – The Sixth DoveTale – The Grace of Swans

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

those halcyon Days . . .

June 8th, 1997

 

and, while I, was Away

( He, was Home )

 

He played the last eight games with all the passion his heart was capable of, finishing the season with a .560 batting average, 8 home runs ( two in a game, twice ), and 42 r.b.i.s . . .

the infield saw his practiced grace keep the hits from ever seeing the outfield grass, and more than a few of his assists turned into double-plays, making second base a foolish place to hit a ball . . .

the St. Lucie National Little League, St. Louis Cardinals, won the League Championship (21/7), advancing to the StrongTeam Finals, and lost in the 3rd Round with a 4-2 standing . . . by all accounts, it was a good season, and a lot of young boys became young men right before our eyes that year . . .

another trophy will take its place on an already crowded shelf, as a shiny and gold phalanx of still-life icons parade across the diamonds of his bedroom, of the fields of his dreams, and of his once-and-still-glorious paths, of summer . . .

his focus, his dedication, his ability, and his love of the game have elevated all who come to watch him play, for one cannot help but sense a kind of natural presence when he walks on a field . . .

and his quietly amazing talents, when fused with the sheer fervency of his youth, become the magic of all he will ever aspire to be . . .

and, in two weeks . . . the All-Stars . . .

 

 

 

from The Voyage of Kings – The Ring – The Sixth DoveTale – The Grace of Swans

 

 

 

Baseball sky 2

 

 

 

 

from the Crucible of Love

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Ivy, and The Dove

 

.

.

as Time’s wake

draws It’s shadow across

The Corridors of Her Heart,
o              o
She looks to The Universe,
V
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