the Shackles of Their Blind Desire



The Shelter of Kindness



over The Fields and The Forests of So It Was,  where Legions of Lilies stand or sway,  and as Always,  there to dance in The Wind’s Ballet,  The Wrens of Ever gather for one final Thrust into The Hearts of Men,  to tear asunder the Shackles of Their Blind Desire,  and to free from Their Souls the Burdens of Their Empires,  that have laid to want and to waste,  All The Foundations of The Truth upon which They were built,  and justly so,  are now left crumbling under The Wait,  and under The Will,  of Avarice . . .

and somewhere beneath the rubble,  struggling for a precious Breath of Light,  resolute in Its Quest to find a significant Foothold in The Soil of Reason,  and of Redemption,  stands a single Rose,  quietly learning to grow,  without Thorns . . .



from Dream I – The Eleventh DoveTale



from The Depths, of Her Devotion



The Promise,  to Remember

 (  on A Dei,  in September  )




Far Ago,  and Long Away,  in a Time before Was,  in

      The Land of Because,  A Tale of Two Lovers,  began . . .





Path,  to


They would walk, 

Hand in Hand,  with a

Fire of Life,  burning to Live,

     Always as One They would stand . . .

in Her Eyes,  was A Universe of Love,

in Her Heart was borne The Reason,

Ever,  His Soul would adore Her,

no matter The Time,  nor

     The Season . . .

then,  One Day,  She heard Him say,

under a Cyan Sky,  Her Heart,  He

broke,  these Words He spoke,

      a Far Away Look,  in His Eye . . .

Winds of Time will not erase,

My Love for You,  and while,

I walk The Days of Infinity to

find,  One Rose,  as lovely,  as

Your Smile,  and to Return I know

      not When,  My Hope is Someday soon . . .

 and,  with that,  He turned,  and rode Away,

      to The Night,  by The Light,  of an August Moon . . .





to The Wind,  She cried,  for The Wind

was All She had to hold,  for Ever,

Gone,  The Light of Her Eyes,

toward The River,  of Time,

so to Eden’s Sky,  She told,

My Angel,  All I have,  is This,

My Love,  My Promise,  and A Kiss,

      for U,  as  My Heart,  will I,  Always,  miss . . .

and before She turned to walk Away,  The Wind

swirled around Her,  waiting,  as Patience,  there,  to

hear Her say,  waiting for Always,  Her Words to share,

Angel,  U,  are All that Is,  Ever My Will Be and My Was,

      U,  are why I Am,  and to Always,  U are My Because  . . .

and since that Eve,  of Ages passed,  when She saw that Look,  in His Eyes,

a Promise to The Wind She cried,  to wait for Infinity,  under Her Cyan Skies,

until,  One Day,  when Ever Returns,  from This Voyage,  The Folly,  of Men,

      for This Time would be The Last Time,  He would embrace Her Love,  Again . . .

and,  She waits,  as Always,  She will,

     and,  The Wind cries,  for Ever,  Still . . .




 from Book I,  The Ring ( First Light ) The Second DoveTale – The Pillow of Hope