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 . . .





deep in The OurGlass




The Coming True

We have spoken of the Remembrances,  the tectonic shifting of a grand Paradigm,
the Parade of Moments that make up this Symphony of a Life,  the taking hold of
every Blessing before its echo fades into SumWhere,  and cherishing it All,  for 
All it is worth,  and realizing,  what it is to be a part of this Flow of undeniable 
Splendor and Grace,  to have been so stunned into shedding uncountable 
tears,  by awe,  by Love,  or touched by an Essence so infinitely beyond 
Wisdom and Compassion,  to have had my soul laid bare,  inside 
the silence of unspeakable Sadness,  to have quenched this 
ageless thirst of my Longing with a river of such terrible 
Beauty,  to understand the flaws in the very fabric 
of my Existence,  and so too the designs
sewn by no hand but my own,  while 
I stand humbled still by every act
of every Kindness ever left,  by
those I have been so blessed 
to know,  the Jewels adorning
the Richness of my Days,  and 
All are now present,  here on this,
      the very Threshold,  of All my Dreams . . .

from this Moment, on




in The Shelters,  of Kindness

(  behold this Flock,  of Grace  )


They arrive,  from anywhere,  without name or number,  rescued,  recovered,  or reclaimed from often desperate or destitute surroundings,  circumstances,  or abuse,  or from being ‘tagged’ for an early and unmarked grave within a system or society so overwhelmed with mismanaged or misguided intentions,  doled out with all but enough compassion,  concern,  or common sense,  that sympathetic and lasting remedies or resolutions are only found in the all-too-rare instances of extreme generosity,  perseverance,  and understanding,  and of course,  kindness . . .

Their ‘crimes’ against human sensibilities are those that only become obvious when they are cast out from among the ‘beloved’,  who are no longer able or allowed a chance to exist within a sanctuary offering those simple and precious acts of benevolence we ourselves could not live without . . . somehow surviving without a smile,  a touch,  a softly-spoken word,  or sustenance,  a roof over their heads,  a safe haven to call their own,  or just the warmth that radiates from the nearness of friends,  family,  or loved ones . . . the very air they breathe only echoes with the whispers of their abandon,  for they have found themselves no longer welcome or wanted,  by a world no longer listening to or well beyond caring for,  these once kindred spirits and companions . . .

Yet,  they were born in innocence,  and therefore with just as much right,  perhaps even a divine blessing,  to be called or regarded as God’s Children as are their human counterparts,  and are just as or even more deserving of our compassion or largesse than what defines our civic or social obligations,  or what we,  by statute,   bestow upon some of our own outcasts and misfits . . . by the sheer vagaries of fate or misfortune,  and the crush or cruelty that comes from having no other choice or defense against it,  is that the only promises in life they are guaranteed to know or have fulfilled,  are unending hunger,  and bone-deep loneliness,  for all the rest of their days . . . unless . . .

My sincerest hope,  and yes certainly the wish of every soul born into this world to ever witness or to wonder of this heart-rending travesty,  is that I can try to ‘lift them up’,  to ease the burden of their sorrows or hardship from their shoulders,  to give back to them what they have so selflessly brought into this heart of mine,  and if at all possible,  to begin to mend theirs . . . to listen to their stories,  to be their voice for as long as it takes for them to be heard,  or at least until they are lucky enough to find a new home,  and become significant and dear to others,  and in turn hold them as dear,  to live within the absence of fear,  and to one day re-emerge within the purpose God gave them,  to really matter in this world just enough,  to find and give love,  again . . .

And yes to thank them,  for being who and what they are,  and for bringing the reason ‘why’ back into my life,  and for allowing me a chance to really understand the true meaning of the word ‘humanity’ . . . which,  after all,  is exactly the reason why God adorned this earth with their presence,  and their purpose,  in the first place . . . because in their aspects,  we will always see grace . . . and in their eyes,  we will forever see,  ourselves . . .





there, on The Pinnacle of Choice


and Windows are but Seas of Glass



Imagine, walking through the corridors within you that comprise the essence of your heart, and therefore becoming the sanctuary of the very place where your soul resides.

From this simple act of defining a center of your self, now imagine the depth and breadth of your absolute significance within the grand and glorious design that caused such a remarkable occurrence, or presence, that whispers of understanding the magnitude of your purpose inside the All of it.

Visualize this presence as a sacred dwelling, a divinely inspired manse of awesome and stunning proportions, and far beyond your awakening consciousness to yet fully appreciate, and which now corresponds to the endless array of possibilities that await each and every notion that comes to mind.

For you,  are a most singular aspect, of the magnitude and majesty of Everything, as extraordinary as the light from the Sun that rose on the day you were born,  and as perfectly unique as the gleam in God’s adoring Eye.

And within this dwelling are as many rooms as there are stars in a galaxy, and each room holds again what only the stars could ever know.  And these rooms abound within the infinite corridors of your everlasting heart. And these rooms present the portals, that offer up the doors, that finally embrace the locks that will always require the Keys, of your Knowledge.

Now imagine, that each of these locks, will accept but a single remarkable key, and this key, is one among seven. For these seven keys, are the means by which all wisdom is bestowed, and all wisdom, is therefore achieved, when you have come to realize that your pure existence within and throughout this voyage of Knowledge, is of an unfolding, an arabesque of a delicate and deliberate design.

And this design is the blueprint of your amazing soul, whose primary purpose within Everything is to savor the countless experiences that forge each of the seven keys, that embody each of the seven virtues of living. For the totality of living is what your soul craves, to know what can only be learned by seeking wisdom, inside a journey that begins and ends with Patience, Tolerance, Acceptance, Compassion, Understanding, and Forgiveness, in order to ever find Love, again . . .

Love, is the sole manifestation of order within this universe, and without which there can emerge no process of investigation or examination, and therefore no sustainable need, want, deservance or desire to even pose the question “why ?”. Because, hidden deep within the fabric of humanity lays the thread of our individual and collective purpose, which, having been meticulously sown by the hand of the Almighty has resonated unerringly across the ages within the welcoming yet infinite realm of wonder.

For each and every aspect of understanding, once gathered and held secure by the alliance of faith and courage, transforms all inquiry and analysis into a definitive and glorious tapestry of Knowledge, through which, and ever annealed in the crucible of wisdom, shall emerge the exquisite clarity, of one voice, and ultimately, one truth.




in the cataclysm, of silence



all that remains,  of a once grand and glorious Because,  now lies hidden in the dust and detritus of a thousand kingdoms and empires come and gone,  buried deep in the wells of our wishes and wistful sighs of what might have been,  the scattered shards of our dreams and desires strewn heedlessly beneath the timeless advance of ideals and ideologies long forgotten,  and those not deserving of remembrance . . . we have built monuments and monoliths to honor that which holds no honor beyond the fleeting adoration of the moment,  while holding hostage the very futures of our children,  in exchange for the paltry ransoms of our immediate gratification . . . we have edificed soaring and gilt-splendored temples to our gods,  that rest upon a billion bones of the unredeemed and unworthy,  as we kneel before the machinery of our faith,  that we might find salvation in the very promise of our ingenuity,  while compassion,  love,  and kindness slowly fade from the pages of our story,  because tomorrow bears no witness,  in the mirror,  of our once upon a time . . .




from ZanaDew Falls,  Seen VIII:  The Time before Until




Knowing, is The Child




The Temerity Prayer



God grant Me the Patience to

reject the Things I cannot change,

Compassion to change the Things I can,

     and finally the Wisdom,  to bestow The Difference . . .





from Book I,  The Ring ( First Light ) The Eighth DoveTale – The Rock of Patience




the Song, and the Dance



Convincing otherWise

(  to Reason  )



He looked out,  across a Sea of Faces,  One by One,  to find

Each holding a Passion,  a Purpose,  and a Promise,

and Each prepared to blame The Next,  for

      The Failures,  of The One,  before . . .

We want Understanding,  They cried,  but Their Cries,  went unSpoken,

We want Forgiveness,  They cried,  but Their Cries,  went unSeen,

We want Love,  They cried,  but Their Cries,  went unHeard,

because All They had forgotten to remember,  was that

Patience,  Tolerance,  Acceptance and Compassion

were NoWhere,  to be found,  among All that had

      Ever remained,  and Always,  to be left behind . . .




from Book II,  The Sword ( Second Sound ) The Fifth DoveTale – The Pillar of Truth




through a Field, of Stones




The Walk,  of Life

(  Virtuosity  )




Patience,  Tolerance,  Acceptance,  Compassion,  Understanding,  Forgiveness,  and Love,  Again . . .





from,  well,  EveryWhere . . .




The View, from Mirth


“ mornin’ folks,  my name’s skye,  guess i’m your driver today,

so just sit tight,  buckle up,  keep yer noises down,  an’ don’t

        forget t’ flush the john . . . an’ ah,  no smokin’ ’til the next stop ” . . .

 ­ ­                          

                                                    ***                                                                    ***­

 ­and,  with that eloquent and heartfelt epithet,  blown

from the very lips of an angel,  as our vomit-colored

bus trundles off toward the sunset along route 442,

just south of miles junction,  and hard by the tracks

out past the county landfill toward that architectural

monstrosity built back in truman’s day usin’ money

disappropriated from the bureau of indian affairs to

hide from pryin’ eyes the facts,  of what exactly,  they

were goin’ to build was none other than a bonafide, 

top-secret,  underground research facility,  operatin’

for the sole purposes of explorin’ mankind’s infinite

capacity for engagin’  in enterprizes far beyond their

ability to understand,  while marchin’  off,  towards a

future they have deluded themselves into thinkin’ is

lined with rose-colored afterthoughts,  when all that

everybody really needed to get along was just a few

words of kindness,  tolerance,  or compassion,  and

every once in a while,  the strength,  that comes from

patience,  or the shelter that comes from forgiveness,

and,  one day,  when we wake up to find all our hopes

have run off with our dreams,  we will also discover,  that all

      this world ever needed,  was,  and still is,  is love . . .

***                                                  ***­



Welcome to BizneyLand

(  an’ thanks for usin’ FrailWays  )



in The Eyes of Solace



In The Wake,  of Devotion

(  RiverWalk  )



She looks,  out across The Millennia,  Out across an endless Path of Winter,  in The Hope of finding One Day’s Respite from Sorrow,  worn,  as She wears Her Faith,  with The Courage of Titans . . .

And deep within Her Heart,  lies Patience,  hiding from The Folly of Men . . . for They would steal from Her,  All They can never understand,  and They would bury Her,  under All They can never know . . .

And She will carry Her Burden through The Ages,  as She,  as Always,  has done,  without The Comfort of Reason,  without The Shelter of Compassion . . . for in This,   She stands Alone,  listening,  to The Ring of Truth,  telling Her of All that Might Have Been . . .

And slowly,  She turns toward Yesterday,  and smiles,  as Her Children of The Clouds gather before Her,  to bathe within Her Kindness . . . Her Eyes catch a glimpse of Love,  Again,  as She lays upon Her Twilight Path,  from Her Basket of Knowledge,  The Tears that became Stars,  long Ago . . .

And in The Time of A Wink and A Promise,  She forgives All that came Before,  as She walks beside Remember,  there along The River of Souls . . . and in The Distance,  drifting toward Her,  stands Tomorrow,  bound to The Deck of a Ship,  called EverMore . . .


*      *      *


and There,  into The Arms of Grace,  go I . . .




from Book III,  The Diamond ( Third Beginning ) The Fourth DoveTale – The Secret of Prisms