on this Day of Days


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





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




and Glory, rose





The Deis, of The Knew

 (  Time, and Space  )



Always,  Now,

      and Ever clear . . .






a Paragon, of Virtue





(  The Child  )






All His Glory,

with All His Might,

free of Destiny’s Chain,

borne to uphold The Mantle

of Her Dominion,  and The Virtues

of Perfection,  a Legion of Stars awaiting

His Whisper of Justice,  poised on The Edge

of Truth,  His Back to The Universe,  His Sword,

lifted toward Hope,  a River of Tears in His Wake, 

and The Rage of Angels in His Heart,  daring the

dogs of Chaos,  to look in His Eyes,  standing,

for Eternity,  among The Honor,  of Always,

standing,  between Time,  and Space,

is Ever,  gracing The Smile,  on

a Face of An Angel,  by

The Name,  of So

It shall

      Be . . .





from Book II,  The Sword ( Second Sound ) The Twelfth DoveTale – The Children of The Clouds



of Those, come and gone



of Ages,  and Empires

(  dust,  to dust  )




      because long before Glory,  there was Grace . . .






to Have, and to Hold




The Cup,  We Runneth Over

 (  Time,  and Rhyme,  Again  )




why Glamour,  has no Gleam,  is because it is covered with Lust,

why Glitter,  has no Depth,  is because it is covered with Rust,

why Glitz,  has no Shine,  is because it is covered with Must,

why Gold,  has no Clarity,  is because it is covered with Dust,

why Hope,  is ever Flying,  is because it was given up for Lost,

why Love,  is never Found,  is because it was given up for Cost,

why Fame,  has no Fortune,  is because it was given up for Spent,

and why Mine,  is not Yours,  is because it was given up for Lent,

and why Glory,  has no Grace,  is for The Price,  We had to Pay,

     and,  why from Here,  to Eternity,  is Ever so Far,  Away . . .




(  “ i swear,  i had nothing to do,  with the crack ”,  said The Sky  )



from Book I,  The Ring ( First Light ) The Sixth DoveTale – The Grace of Swans



as The Muse, whispers








to sit with You,

in a Corner of The Galaxy,

as We talk,  of All The Days Gone By,

of All Things Dear and nEver Forgotten,  for They

*        are The Pearls,  that grace The Breast,  of Some Time When,­       *

and caress The Thread of The Heart of Shall Be,  Again,

to walk with You,  along The Shores of Heaven,  as

We watch The Glory of Sunrise,  as We choose

The Colors of Sunset,  and paint The Rings

of Friendship around The Stars,  flying

      through The Windows of Our Eyes . . .

*                                                                       *




from Book III,  The Diamond ( Third Beginning ) The Seventh DoveTale – The Breath of Angels




and far beyond The Reach



In The Arms,  of By and By

 (  The Circle,  is Unbroken,  Still  )









of Love,  Again,

and seen,  Living,  in

The Eyes of a Butterfly,

as told,  by an Iron Horse,

there came from The East,

a great and winged Flyer of

endless Velocity and Grace,

sailing low in The Sky,  aloft

in The Glory of The Sun,  Up 

in The Path of Her Spirit Wind,

moving as Liquid above The Sea,

having flown,  All The Days of Infinity,

having endured the long dark Kiss,  of Night,

the Fire Dove glides to rest upon The Rail of Sighs,

and,  She looks,  out across These Shores of Her Longing, 

remembering a Morning long Ago,  when an Ibis,  born Resolute,

began Her Voyage to Avalon,  bearing This Burden of Destiny’s Heart,

This Crown of Roses,  who Now lays Them,  Here,  at The Feet of Yesterday,

who smiles,  and gazes toward Hope,  who turns,  in Time,  to see A Wink,  dancing

in The Eye of So It Shall Be,  while There,  in The Distance,  rising Up through The Mist,

with a Terrible Beauty,  bound for  Moments Yet to Come,  and a Purpose known only to God,

laughing with The Moon,  goes Ever,

The Last ThunderBird,

     Home . . .




from Book I, The Diamond ( First Light ) The Ninth DoveTale – The Windmills of Eden



without Thorns



The Glory,  Rose

 (  Always,  at Last  )



Here,  inSighed Your Velvet Petals,

 where Your Heart,  Your Music, 

 and Your Story,  begin to unFold,

 I fall,  toward every Breath,  every

Song,  and every Page withIn,  yes I

fall,  Ever slowly and Ever softly, 

toward Your Mysteries, 

      unTold . . .





                                                                                                 *                  *

                                                                                                 *             *

                                                                                                 *         *

                                                                           *                    *       *

                                                                                 *              *     *

                                                                                     *          *    *

                                                                                        *       *   *

                                                                                          *     *  *

                                                                                           *    **

                                                                                            *   *

                                                                                             *  *




 from Book I,  The Ring ( First Light ) The Eleventh DoveTale – The Shelter of Kindness






My Father’s Eyes

 (  They cried  )



through These Windows,  came The Sounds,  of Glory,

of Empires,  and of Legacies,  and A Soldier’s Story,

of Men,  and of Machines,  and of Sacred Things,

     of Honor,  of Courage,  of the Voyages of Kings . . .

through These Pages,  now tattered,  and torn,

came Heralds or Prophets,  Sages were born,

from Dawn,  to Dusk,  came Wonders,  anew,

     over Fields,  and Forests,  Our Destinies flew . . .

through These Gates,  came His Tales of Old,

of Castles,  and Camelot,  and Cities,  of Gold,

of Fame,  and of Fortune,  and Destiny’s Hand,

     of Sons and Swords,  and Monuments,  of Sand . . .

through These Echoes,  so His Stories would tell,

of Legions,  on Battlefields,  Men marching to Hell,

of Gods,  and of Galaxies,  and of Creation,  unknown,

     of The Tides,  and The Times,  when Angels have flown . . .

and through These Moments,  All gathered Here,  and Now,

come The Whispers of Horses,  and His Dreams,  SomeHow,

and No Matter of  His Journey,  not of The Where,  nor The From,

     because,  finally,  Here,  at Hand,  Yes,  His Kingdom,  has Come . . .



from Book I,  The Ring ( First Light ) The Eleventh DoveTale – The Shelter of Kindness



The Chalice, of Hope



To Light,  and Life

 (  There,  from Here  )



walking along The River of Souls,  He shares The Path,  with Patience,

and before The Last Feather of Dawn breaks Free of The Fall of Night,

as Come What May,  smiles,  knowingly,  to So It Might,  He turns to

face The Eyes of Heaven,  His Legion of Stars,  as They pause,

One More Time,  to Witness,  and as Always,  to Wonder, 

of The Glory,  within Them,  and Each,  bowing

Their Head,  in The Presence of Truth,

Each,  laying Their Sword,  at

The Feet of Grace,  when,

at Last,  He whispers,

You,  My Guardians,

Children of The Sun,

Your Journey,  began

in The Thoughts of God,

so There It will come to Rest,

bless This Earth with Love,  Again,

      Always,  for You,  I will Promise,  Their Best . . .

Here,  at Last,  Night is Past,  as Hearts,  begin to mend,

     and Ever,  He turns,  to face The Day,  still walking,  around The Bend . . .




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