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



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a light the darkness fears the most





and from the mists and the myths of our collective folklore, for we are

all born under the same sun, comes a whisper of a way in which 

this spirit might rise again, through our thoughts, 

      our voices, our portrayals, of our yesterdays . . .

so our dreams, our desires, our hopes, 

our prayers, shall be brought forth,

where everything is illuminated,

around and through a simple

      yet timeless element . . .

      a spark, a flame, a ball, of light . . .



from The Voyage of Kings ~ A StoryTeller’s Dream




The Voyage of Kings ~ A StoryTeller's Dream

buy the new Digital and Print Editions on Amazon and Barnes&Noble





on this Day of Days


      to The Brothers,  and Sisters,  in Arms . . .





      as the Caissons,  go rolling along,  Ever still . . .




of gossamer’d Wing




By The Light, of A Lamp

 (  of Love  )



while I can only imagine, The Essence of Your Bouquet,

You are,  as a Rose or a very fine Wine . . . SomeOne

to savor and cherish,  for a very long Time . . . Your

Words possess an eternal quality,  while Longing

      and Desire,  vie,  for Your commitment to Reason . . .

it is an honor sharing this place with One as gifted

and as graced as You,  and if I,  am so ever fortunate

 enough to know a Heart, that whispered a Thought such

                 as This . . .         *

         ”   become the          *

white angels of

   a desperate winter  

 I would surely count Myself as present,

      when asked,  if I,  Ever saw,  Perfection . . .






The Quotation was posted by Sharon Gould 

on May 1st, 1998,  from Poets & Writers

Forum #7.1893 in  of Love,  Again


from Book III,  The Diamond ( Third Beginning ) The Fifth DoveTale – The Circle of Heaven




Illusions, of Grandeur




The Dire Straits

(  between Envy,  and Desire  )




whatever U choose to make Your Pledge,

This Turn,  is as Sharp,  as A Razor’s Edge,

for Each hold Dreams so far beyond Wonder,

though One is for Pleasure,  the Other is Plunder,

and,  U shall be embraced,  by All Manner,  of Things,

     so remember in whose Name,  U were Once called,  Kings . . .






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




Need, Want, Deserve, and Desire




The Flowers,  of Avarice

(  bear Petals,  of Stone and Glass  )



The Lines drawn in The Sand,  have long since faded from The Shores,  of To Have and To Hold, 

    and now,  ly buried,  sumWhere,  between All that is Left to take,  and All that is Right,  where It is . . .




Book II,  The Sword ( Second Sound ) The First DoveTale – The Fires of Ice




The Sum, of All We know




Need,  Want,  Deserve,  and Desire




The Impetus,  for Existence,  is dictated by Either of These Things,

while embracing The Notion,  that Each are separate in all We feel

       is required to live,  when directing Our Pursuits toward Happiness . . .


though,  in The End,  finding Happiness,  is when We realize,  that

      Each of These Things are nothing more,  than One and The Same . . .




 from Book II,  The Sword ( Second Sound ) The Tenth DoveTale – The Pinnacle of Choice




when Longing weds Desire




The Promise 



               I gaze out upon The Sea,  as The Dawn slowly pours over Me . . . It’s brilliant Pageant of Light dances upon My Bed of Jewels,  where I laid,  under a Blanket of Stars,  to while away The Night’s Passage . . . after a Moment’s Reflection,  and a Prayer to All Things Dear,  I set out toward The Palace,  Once Again,  along The Shores of Eden,  along This Path of Tears . . . and in The Time of A Wink,  My Eyes behold an Image,  a Woman,  of profound Splendor,  walking toward Me,  as if I,  were Her Intent,  as if I,  were Her Reason . . . beside Myself with Wonder,  I could only Hope . . .

                Still,  at a Distance,  for I cannot yet see Her Eyes,  Her Body pleases Me . . . The Sand,  The Sea,  The Sky . . . All are in extreme Clarity,  yet All are completely intangible . . . My Focus is The Spectral Masterpiece in front of Me . . . My Adrenaline is a fevered rush,  and I must command the last vestiges of My Self-Control to resist shattering . . . I keep walking,  struggling to maintain a bearing of Serenity,  and forge onward . . .

                I feel Invincible,  though dwarfed by The Magnitude of Her Presence . . . I am Alone,  with My Trepidation . . . I am Alone,  with Her . . . She moves,  as Liquid,   with a Grace that startles Me,  and She is as Natural to Her Surroundings as is Sunlight,  possessing a Radiance all Her Own . . . She is closer . . . I can see The Smile I have sailed The Millennia to see . . .

                The Sense of Time has abandoned Me,  along with involuntary impulses to breathe . . . Feeling has left My Fingertips,  and My Vision,  save for Her Aspect,  is dimmed beyond Acuity . . . External Light sources are fading,  and All Sound is in retreat . . . conventional Mind synapses are lost,  and core Body functions subsist on primal drive . . . My Mind,  or what remains of It,  is a spinning Vortex of pure,  white hot Awe . . . My Heart,  echoes The Roar and Velocity,  of a Triphammer . . .

                 Her Eyes . . . Eyes that could send Armies into Oblivion,  cause Empires to rise and fall,  The Seasons to unwind,  Suns to blink,  and ordinary Men to Their Knees . . . Windows to Galaxies . . . Her Eyes,  Thresholds to The Oceans of Awareness,  and All that lies beyond The Realm of Understanding . . . and Somehow,  despite the immense Universe of Her Aura,  I remain standing,  walking,  closer . . .

                 The Air seems to be vibrating softly,  but with a Purpose,  as if The Sky were about to crack from The Intensity of mere Thought . . . I have stepped within,  surrounded,  by The Colors of Her Essence . . . as Her Voice crosses The Distance between Us,  spilling over Me like Cool Water . . . I can see Her Words,  flying,  like Jewels across The Cyan Sky,  and I am The Sky . . . She is speaking to My Heart . . . to Me . . . I am spellbound by The Intimacy,  and I must respond and I cannot,  for My Voice became dust,  long ago . . . Closer is no longer possible,  for I am,  where Here,  Is . . .

                Stonemasons,  Artisans,  Poets,  Painters,  and Sculptors down through Antiquity,  have never captured The Loveliness of a Goddess such as She . . . Her Face,  is a Classic Vista of Wonder and Perfection . . . A Mirror of flawless crystal could never cast a Likeness to compare with The Beauty before Me . . . and I am Ever humbled,  in The Presence of Her Majesty . . .

                 I am within Her . . . I am born Anew,  yet I have lost all Sense of Self . . . Desire has become My Master, though We have yet to Touch,  for I feel I would require The Sanctification of Nature to do so . . . yet She,  as if knowing My Thoughts,  and with The Grace of a Swan,  nods Her Head,  and slowly raises Her Hand,  toward My Face . . .

                No Man,  Gone or yet Lived,  has known of This Rapture,  even in Dreams . . . The Fire of Anticipation rivals The Core of The Sun,  burning All Senses . . . to be touched by Paradise,  is to be made One with Her . . . I have never imagined being worthy of This Gift,  of This Ecstasy . . . oh yes,  to dance with The Muse,  in whose Embrace awaits the seldom heard Whisper,  of Fulfillment . . .

                Her Hand caresses My Face,  as She would The Wind,  like Silk across My Skin . . . The Rhythm of Life flows through Her,  and electrifies My Soul . . . and in The Breath of A Moment,  I know All that is in Her Heart,  for She has given Me Her Own . . . She is Earth,  She is Air,  She is Light,  She is The Dawn . . . I stand before Creation’s Daughter,  and I am blessed,  for She,  is The Angel of Love . . .

                 I am wrapped,  within The Music of Her Being,  and I,  begin,  to cry . . .




from A StoryTeller’s Dream ( Dream I ) The Second DoveTale – The Pillow of Hope


Book II,  The Sword ( Second Sound ) The Seventh DoveTale – The Robes of Honor




The Echo



The Echo



On This Day,  there shall come a Sound,  soft and slow,  yet with an enduring Rhythm,  rising as Golden Wind,  to capture The Souls of all Men,  and to embrace The Hearts of all Women . . . from This Moment on,  until All Moments fade,  The Sound shall be known,  as The Breath of Angels . . .

Now,  Alone Together,  with The Fire of Life in Your Eyes,  You will stand with Hearts as One,  and talk,  of Days to Come . . .

The Voyage is upon You . . . place Your Hand in Each Other’s, and feel The Dream,  The Desire,  and The Devotion . . . Your Hearts will surge with joyous Anticipation,  as You navigate The Oceans of Promise and Fulfillment . . . You are to become The Treasure of All Dreams,  for if You laced Each Moment of Your Lives Together,  with fine Silver Thread,  more Precious would They be,  than a Web of Pearls . . .

A Bond of Freedom is forged,  to explore YourSelves through Each Other . . . Every Moment shared,  is a Testament of Faith . . . in Your Purpose,  Your Path,  and Your Passion . . . Together, You will grow,  and harvest All that Life’s Bounty has to surrender . . . and A Bridge of Gold awaits,  crossing One Hand to One Hand,  One Heart to Another,  Two become One,  and One,  is Always for Ever . . .

Imagine a Place,  where it Rains only when You Wish,  and Wishes come True only when You Smile . . . or of moving a Mountain of Shadows from Your Heart,  with just a Touch . . . or of searching The Heavens for The Truth that lies within You . . . or of gazing into The Center of this Most Blessed Union,  for The Light that Always shines There . . . Imagine Love . . .

And Tomorrow,  in The Final Pages of Your Story,  when The End is just A Beginning,  You will sit, Once More,  with Hearts as One,  and talk,  of Days Gone By . . .



from A StoryTeller’s Dream ( Dream I ) The Third DoveTale – The Gates of Dawn