Dream II

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the following is an brief Look-at-a-Book, called A StoryTeller’s Dream . . .

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Dream II – The OverLook

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 The Voyage of Kings

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The Sword

 (My Path)

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       The Prelude,  The Calling,  and The Nearing . . .

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and The Prelude

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Ouroboros

(The Blackest, of Wholes)

 

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horrific . . . and suspended there, stark among the galaxies, as each heaving breath it takes draws billions upon billions of Stars into the swirling chasm of Oblivion . . . its form, an immense nebulae of what might have been, is lit from within by the serpentine fires of an unnamed hell, emitting vile and virulent clouds of unrelenting rage upon the silence of untold aeons . . .

a vast and terrible beauty, a colossus, made living by the sheer enormity of evil, and the dogs it has set loose upon the hearts and kingdoms of men, kept rabid and ravenous by the merciless hunger of an old, deep, and insatiable darkness . . .

where Angels are doomed to walk Eternity in the final abyss of fear, and where the echoes of empires have gone to die, along with their suns, along with their sorrows . . . unsung, unforgiven, and unremembered, for ever . . .

a ruined aberration of God, whose purpose is nothing less than the complete and utter annihilation of the very Light of all Creation, and therefore, alas, and oh yes, the very essence, of All Things Dear . . .

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(Chaos, waits)

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oh yes and on this day, there is sure to come a Sound, soft and slow, yet with a daringly defiant and utterly relentless rhythm, a rising, a rolling, and a riveting avalanche of thunder, wrapped in the glorious cadence of a supremely righteous intent, pounding the earth for all we are worth, and heralding the arrival of an allegiance called the Might . . . the Seven Hundred . . . ebony left, and ivory, right . . .

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The Whisper

(of Horses)

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We are the Sand, flowing through the OurGlass, and the Moment before Midnight’s Bell . . . We are the Spirit of the Redwood Majesties, and the Wishes, long buried in your Well . . .

We are the Light from a distant Star, the Hunters, of shadows on the Moon . . . We are the Fragrance of the Rose, and the Silence, between cries of the Loon . . .

We have danced for ages with Daughters of Atlantis, caressed the very heart of Time, at birth . . . We have flown the heavens on the Fires of Ice, lifted mountains, from the core of the earth . . .

We have sailed the endless waters of Tomorrow, seen the Suns of skies beyond die away . . . We have heard the sighs of your deepest sorrow, and sung the songs only the Wind could play . . .

We will blow our trumpets, with a breath of Angels, calm the rage of screams in hell . . . We will wed the dyad of Hope and Fulfillment, and build a home where their dreams will dwell . . .

We will dry the tears of broken Children, awaken this world from the cradle of Night, We will fly the Doves of Love, Again, and lay open the gates, to the Reign, of Light . . .

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The Calling

(of Angels)

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I am a child born beyond the bridges of Time, perhaps more a servant than a soldier of Fate, though without a name or even a number, and while I speak from a place inside the hearts of all men, their knowing where to find it has long been forgotten . . . but oh yes, I remember . . .

I remember also of another place from long ago, and so far, far beyond the reach of even kings, set under a gloriously sapphired sky no mortal mind could ever bear to regard, and laying beside a sea of dreams far, far deeper than the well that holds all the tears ever cried . . .

I will tell a story born of Truth and the Reason Why, yet it still demands surrender to a deeply profound longing, to understand all that Was, Is, and Will Be of this overwhelmingly significant thread called Urth . . . and how it became so delicately woven into the fabric of Everything, its path, place and purpose within the grand tapestry of this Universe, as it all unfurls inside the absolute majesty of God’s impeccable design . . .

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The First DoveTale

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The Fires of Ice

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as the echo of the Reason Why begins to gather about itself a fire more radiant than the core of the Sun, and all of the places and the spaces in this Universe begin to vibrate softly, and then to hum for all they are worth, a lone Soldier of Virtue, without name or number, stands with pure and infinite grace upon the deck of His mighty Ship of Light . . .

and there behind Him, in unfolding and unending echelons of flawless precision and imperial might, reaching as far away as the Ican Sea, are wave upon wave of His glorious Allegiance, arrayed like the jewels of an empire across the sky, and ever standing, for Always, to face the uncountable armies, of the Oblivion . . .

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The Calling

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There, in The Path, of Eagles

(I walk)

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if there ever was a real beginning, it all seems to have slowly emerged as a feeling, a vaguely instinctual sense of disarray, and sometime later, more, perhaps, as a knowing, that something was indeed amiss . . . I, and a few others, felt the undercurrent, the undulation, a chaotic vibrancy, a discordance, a relentlessness of intent, almost as if the very fabric of the Universe were somehow flawed . . .

and without even the smallest benefit of chance or circumstance, its presence was somehow quite tangible, leaving its specter of inevitability far, far outside the realm of wonder . . . there were times when one could almost feel the ice-cold touch of its absolute certainty upon the soul . . .

how, could this abomination, be? . . . and no matter which corner of the empire my endeavors have brought me, none were spared this dark undertow flowing beneath the surface of all things significant and dear, and as resolute as only Fate ever has a right to be . . . the Eyes of Heaven were indeed wary . . . no character or countenance could hide its concern without considerable cost or effect . . . no heart or mind was immune to this quietly insidious onslaught, and in whose wake were left the scars of doubt, and even fear . . .

on occasion, I would come upon travelers, solitary messengers and the like, and some, without name or number, and others from places even Angels have seldom gone . . . I did not ponder these random encounters for too long a time, for they prompted more questions than anyone cared, or dared, to answer . . . the only outward sign of the real nature of their journeys, or even a fleeting glimpse into their intended purpose, was borne in the shadow of dread caught drifting across the windows of their somewhat haunted eyes . . .

when asked to recount some of the details of their voyage, for stories of the outer reaches of the empire were always of great interest, their voices, too, would betray them . . . any specifics regarding certain regions of the frontier were masked by a lighthearted banter, yet I felt that it never fully disguised the magnitude of their discomfort . . . a few evaded the subject altogether . . .

there were, at times, an obvious sense of relief when, at last, I would not harry them further, allowing them to continue on their way, leaving me to digest what little information they could, or would, impart . . . and it seemed that the more knowledge I sought, or the closer I moved toward a clearer understanding, the darker the shadow surrounding it became . . .

long after each traveler had drifted away toward their appointed duties, I would sit alone under many a Starfield, and gaze out across the magnitude and majesty of Creation, trying to fathom the cause, the consequences, and the costs of an impossible yet inevitable conflict with this cruel and cunning adversary . . . uncertainty would soon engulf all my attempts to preserve a lucid and rational frame of mind, while my heart yearned for the quiet sanctuary of Reason to reveal itself . . .

a breathtaking array of Suns is laid out before my eyes, cast like diamonds across an exquisite bed of nocturnal velvet, the eternal sky of Her dominion . . . all its splendor, all its precision, all its grace could not keep my trepidation at bay . . . what was this shadow, this revenant that threatened this peace, this empire of Love? . . . what form did it manifest? . . . what was its aim? . . . what end did it dare bring to pass? . . . and what unholy alliance would ever dare to try? . . .

and the question that shakes the very foundation of all that I am, and all I am ever to become, is what new threshold of sorrow will lay its claim upon the heart of the Feminine Supreme? . . . for this fear weighs so heavily at the core of the maelstrom of my thoughts, and foretells of consequences that echo far deeper than all other concerns . . . and yes, it is a fear that unsettles the very marrow of my bones, while however, I pray that it will hone my perceptions to a sharper and more refined edge . . .

could this discordance be an integral component in Her grand design? . . . what purpose could the eventual disruption of a pure harmonic balance serve? . . . from which point in what quadrant of this entire cosmos could this refraction of Light have been conceived? . . . and just how deeply could this vile blade of malevolence cut into the all-embracing heart of Her glorious and eternal dominion? . . .

these uncountable reservations seem to cascade upon my senses, and I possess not a single mote or measure of understanding . . . yet my undying allegiance to Her Virtue burns bright within my heart, and I must search for the answers . . . I must find the strength of will to liberate Her sovereignty of this darkfall, and rediscover, redefine, or redraw the path to Love, Again . . .

still, in the glory of perfection that is the hallmark of this Universe, and all that is held sacred and sanctified within the borders of Paradise, ever the balance is kept . . . and I must acknowledge the echo that resonates within every facet of my being, for it is the bell of Always ringing in my heart, ringing in my thoughts, ringing throughout all of Her Creation, from the very shores of the empire of Angels, and calling me, home . . .

and of this I am sure, that I will walk all the days of Infinity to dry just one tear from Her face, to look into the eyes of Grace, to know Her reason, why . . .

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The Second DoveTale

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The Sea of Glass

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so vast in its depth, and so infinite in its breadth, the mirror image of this singular and extraordinary portrayal floats in limitless clarity within a most brilliant regard, somewhere in the sparkle of God’s adoring eye . . .

and in a garden, of an Eden, a mockingbird quietly watches, and waits, with suspended breath, while four dark horsemen find themselves standing naked and alone upon a most uncommon ground, and so completely surrounded, by the sum and the whole of all their fears . . .

and off in the distance, to herald the return of the Ring of Truth, the Bells of Freedom slowly but surely come alive, deep inside the long-silent WatchTowers that stand for Always, along the shores of Her Paradise . . .

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The Calling

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In Horizon’s Wake

(I see)

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from somewhere deep within the heart of Because flows a river of Light . . . and this Light is the sum of all knowledge, all understanding, and therefore, all wisdom . . . the pinnacle of this state of perception is ephemeral and quite fluid in its aspect, for the sum of all that is known will never exceed the sum of all there is left to learn . . .

this Light, is also the path of All Things Dear, and the beacon whose very foundation is the bedrock beneath the shores of Paradise . . . this Light, is all the Light that has ever shined throughout the millennia, for it was cast from the distant fires of Creation . . . this Light, roams the seas and seasons of Infinity, and now, this Light, will for ever be the path of my desire . . .

so, with my sails and my heart unfurled, I set out for the sapphire skies of Eden, the grandest vista the Eyes of Heaven have ever known, and awaiting me somewhere at the end of this beginning, somewhere along this river of radiant Grace . . . my ship is borne on the currents only known on the maps of Destiny, and upon which my dreams have been charted and will sail onward, for Always, as I navigate the oceans of Promise and Fulfillment, to find the source of all the passion my soul was ever meant to know, and to behold the Ring, of Truth . . .

a myriad of galaxies illuminate my course on this, the endless sea of Wonder . . . as I stand, bound by honor to the deck of my ship of Light, I have only my memories as companions, and certainly all the wishes of Hope, to guide my journey through this intricate, and quite infinite, web of pearls . . .

all that my eyes survey is beauty of unimagined proportions . . . the immense cathedral of Heaven rises limitless, beyond the boundaries of rational thought, and each bright Star is not only a confirmation of the extraordinary gifts that flourish within Her tapestry of Splendor, but each Star is also a herald of a place called home . . .

it is by the Light of these Stars I will find my way, for they are the islands of my affirmation, as are each an oasis of my faith . . . as I sail toward the center of All, their radiance caresses and comforts me, and like the petals of a flower, draw me ever closer to the joy within . . . each delicate spiral becomes a falling in, and as always, higher still, to a luxurious encompassing, deep inside an arabesque of pure, hypnotic enchantment . . .

as the solar winds fill my gossamered sails and gently move me onward, I begin to understand the magnitude of the task that awaits me . . . while I have yet to fathom what lies at the end of my journey, I sense that if my purpose is to secure, once and for all, the absolute sovereignty of the heart of this empire, and to restore the majesty of the power of Love to its pinnacle of choice, then I, as a soldier of the virtues of this Universe, shall eagerly surrender my last dying breath to carry out that noble endeavor . . .

and as long as this shroud of darkness threatens to disrupt the sanctity of order within Her dominion, I shall resist those forces for as long as Eternity allows, and until the last moments of my existence quietly fade into Remember’s knowing yet solemn embrace . . .

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The Third DoveTale

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The Rail of Sighs

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a Sandpiper runs along the wind-swept shores of his undeniable longing, searching everywhere for the line he knows was once drawn, somewhere, between the sand, and the foam . . .

and upon his ceaseless watch appears the face of Time, to remind him, that soon the very last thunderbird will ever find its way beyond the reach of kings, and that the laughter of children will come, wave upon wave, to finally and fully bless these rising tides of Compassion . . .

and far, far on the distant horizon, riding high the rolling swells of Her glorious Abundance, come the dolphins, each with their eyes upon the prize, and each, pulling on a golden rein, of our guiding Light . . .

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The Calling

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of A Promise, to Keep

(I know)

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as I draw imperceptibly closer to Destiny’s far horizons, and the galaxies pass as grand, swirling tempests above and below my sails, the strength of my resolve grows in equal measure to the might of my convictions . . . doubt can no longer veil my path or perceptions, and soon I am able to mark my progression, both of awareness and proximity, by the faintest increase in the pulse of illumination within the celestial splendor around me . . .

no longer do I sense a precise vividness in the nocturnal sky, but more of an exchange of clarity, an incremental graduation of ideals or paradigms, a subtle shifting of knowledge beginning to envelope my vessel, and my mind . . . perhaps I perceive the very Dawn of Awakening . . .

as this delicate radiance blossoms around me, so too does my ability to recognize at least a spark of understanding, however small, as to my purpose and its place in this great wheel of Universal agendas . . . my only wish is that I come to know all that I must know before reaching my destination, and I become proficient in every aspect required of me in order to best serve the empire and the desires of Her Grace during this time of turmoil and uncertainty . . .

waves of a decidedly sinister reality begin to randomly insinuate their presence inside this rising tide of perception, and a foreboding soon cloaks my heart anew . . . the source of this disquieting and incendiary rhythm comes from deep within a chasm of fear that lies just outside the edge of my sanity . . . it waits, mocking all patience or pretense, for one moment of hesitancy in the flow of my awareness, for one flicker of doubt in the eye of my vigilance, for one last chance or circumstance that could allow its inborn wickedness to violate the supreme sanctuary of All Virtue . . .

it is an all-encompassing, insatiable threat that will one day infiltrate every form and facet of wellbeing, invade every refuge of rhyme and reason, in order to accomplish the unthinkable, the absolute conquest of Heaven . . . it is an ancient anomaly of a righteous purpose, so masterfully and maniacally clever, and quite eager to gain a foothold in the affairs and aspirations of the innocent . . . and it is upon this immaculate ground that it seeks to build the monument called Antithesis, to desecrate all that is good within a finality beyond limit, and to honor all that lies within the name, and burns within the flame, of Chaos . . .

for it is the sword of this Chaos, the Night’s sole means and manner of incursion by another title, a honed and hate-filled aberration of divine will, the ebony blade of a thousand sorrows, that is poised to strike, and deeply, into the heart of All Things Dear . . . and its back-thrust began screaming across all Creation long before the telling of this tale, and its aim finds its targets ever still, and long, long after the storming of the gates of the blameless ever began . . .

and now, as the Light of a different dawn slowly paints my sails in the glorious colors of a new morning, I am fully aware that my own purpose is to defend this heart of Everything, this heart of Always that I, long ago, promised to serve as a soldier of Her Empire of The Sun, to preserve the unity of Friendship, and to uphold the laws of Universal Order . . .

indeed, the rock upon which the entire Universe rests is Order, and the sea that flows around this Order, embracing it, shaping it, defining it, and transforming it, is Love . . . and to understand the ever-changing and ever-constant aspects and qualities of this Love, one must first wander the distant shores of Faith, for Faith is the first condition mentioned within the words of the covenant between Promise, and Fulfillment . . .

because when all the lessons have been labored and learned, one will come to know of the first and last obligation to be extended toward the refinement of one’s soul . . . that the fulfillment of a promise is a significant moment of Truth, created by and felt within the sanctuary of one’s own heart . . . only then will God’s blessed Intent resonate within, and thus be savored by the soul, only then will Faith begin to build the foundations of one’s Fulfillment, and only then may one ever deserve to wear the Robes, of Honor . . .

perhaps, one day, I will journey well beyond the bridges of Time in the service of Her Majesty, and experience firsthand the intimacy and intricacy of this Faith . . . and follow the paths of Hope in search of the very thread of my existence within the tapestry of God’s Heart . . . and dance to the rhythms sung by the voices of Angels, as I surrender, to the everlasting joy, of Love’s sweet embrace . . .

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onWord,  to

Dream III – The OverLace

The Diamond

(Third Beginning)

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The Voyage of Kings ~ A StoryTeller's Dream

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