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 . . .





by The Ring, of Excalibur




The Point,  of The Sword,  of Truth




as Blessings know,

it is Always at Times like this,

when I Again open The Door to This Place,

after a long Day’s surrender,  under the Night’s velvet Sky,

when I happen upon The Peace of Your Stories,  a Promenade of Words,     >

crafted as though Perfection were well within Your Grasp,

as if Your Thoughts were Heralds of Hope,

whispering of Imminent and

EverLasting Grace . . .





from Book II,  The Sword ( Second Sound ) The Second DoveTale – The Sea of Glass