reflected, on a Sea of Glass

 

 

Plus Ultra 

(  of More,  and Beyond  )

 

      

i

as The Mariner,  explores,  with His Iron Oars,  The Depths,  of The IcanSea,

He pulls to Appraise Them,  only to Raise Them,  from Oblivion’s Hold,  so Heavenly,

burdened blind,  by The Weight of Mankind,  for The Wind in His Wake is Sighing,  Still,

while an Echo of Everything Dear,  quietly roars in His Ear,  He rows by a Force of Will,

and ’Lo and Behold,   as These Legends unfold,  to become The Meaning,  of Truth,

The Mariner turns,  For Always He yearns,  remembering The Love,  of His Youth,

as The Sea finds The Sky,  without knowing Why,  Home is The Star of Reason,

      behind Eden’s Gates,  His Always waits,  no matter The Time,  or The Season . . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

until At Last,  across Millennia’s Past,  His Journey will End,  where It Began,

beyond Her Shore,  He will roam No More,  lost,  among The Follies,  of Man,

just out of Sight,  Ever,  shrouded by Night,  reckoning by The Light of Her Grace,

One Day,  Soon,  under an August Moon,  so Lovely,  will be The Smile on Her Face,

yet before Hope rests Again in The Arms of When,  Here,  There are Promises to keep,

from His Heart,  sails a Thread,  for to All He is wed,  by Each Tear,  Ever born,  to weep,

and if Fate had a Choice or Silence a Voice,  These Words to Her,  He whispered Then,

     Always,  is My Rose,  as only Forgiveness knows,  and We,  will be,  Love,  Again . . .

i

 

 

 

 from Book III,  The Diamond ( Third Beginning ) The Eighth DoveTale – The Bridge of Dreams

 

 

 

 

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  )

 

 

a Spiral StareWay

 

 

 

Clouds,  and All

(  right where They should be  )

  

 

then,  as Once,  Again,

and The Eyes of Heaven

embrace the Stillness, 

to gaze upon

a Man, 

One

with no

name or number,

with No Doubt,  of His

Purpose,  with No Rest,

to call His Own,  on

His Knees,

in

His Dory,

The Stars,  Above

and Below Him,  well

beyond The Reach,  of

Men,  and Machine,

Ever rowing,

toward

His,

and All

      Forgiveness . . .

*      *      *      *

and while The Legion of Stars

quietly ponder His Intent,  in The Presence of Their Grace,

listening to The Sigh of an Echo in His Wake,  They see a Place called Earth,

      slowly turning to greet The Day,  and yet pulled by The Fine,  and Silver Thread,  of His Heart . . .

 

 

 

 

from Book III,  The Diamond ( Third Beginning ) The Tenth DoveTale – The Cliffs of Andromeda