and The First, know well . . .

.

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The Gift,  of Faith

( A Season’s Ring )

and,  as the

Whisper of Winter’s Breath,

carries the last leaves of Autumn

far from the loving Arms of Home,

away,  to golden Fields of Our Past,

and lesser Days cast a longer shadow

upon all that might have been,  remember

always,  that Hope flies eternal,  and Wishes born

in the Prayers of Children,  live on in The Hearts of Angels,

as their Dreams,  walking hand in hand with God’s Grace,  become

the Spirit of Promises to keep,  for the Joys of all they can be,

lie waiting,  in The Eyes,  of

      Tomorrow . . .

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may Christmas find U all,  wrapped in The Presence,  of Peace on Earth . . .

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from Eden’s Shore, comes a Tale of Yore

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.

Ο

^^

^^

Castles, of Iron

( on The Sands, of Time )

.

                                                                                 ~~~~*

                                                                                      ~~*

yes,

here I stand,

My Sword,  in hand,

bathed in Her Armor of Grace,

the dragons,  slain,  darkness,  dead,

      and Her Light,  will Always shine,  in its place . . .
                              
yes,  gone the Night,  no evil in sight,

Sorrow’s Fate,  having lost the Race,

so walk with Me,  through the Gates

of Her Dawn,  and Our Eyes

      will behold Heaven’s Face . . .

so open Your Hearts,  and

sail away with Me,  across

My River of Tears,  for it is

where Ever reigns in peace,

      for all The Days of Our Years . . .

so come share My Dream,  as

though it may seem,  as We fly

upon this Angel’s Wings,  away,

to The Blessed,  beyond all the rest,

      as We journey,  toward this Voyage,  of Kings . . .

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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

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

on this Day of Days

 

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

 

BrothersInArms

 

 

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

 

 

 

a bridge, a cross, eternity . . .

 

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this book was conceived, and is certainly now embraced, by a most singular act of divine will and determination ever to be brought forth under the sublime guidance and counseling of none other than the Feminine Supreme, and upon whose infinite grace and wisdom I have been blessed to witness, and therefore to wonder, of all that has been manifested within each and every woman I have ever had the honor and pleasure to know . . .

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from The ForeWord:   The Voyage of Kings (The Apology) 

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Buy the Book on Amazon

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and beyond the reach of Kings

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A River of Stars

 (  in Mercy’s Hand,  when unfurled  )

  

 

if I could offer up a simple ray of Kindness,  to move as liquid,  down upon a small but significant corner of my world,  down upon this flock of Grace,  whether for a single bright moment,  or a myriad, and from this there would emerge,  so soft and slow,  an undeniable resonance of its whispered flow,  an echo,  and it radiates,  outward,  toward the frontiers of Oblivion,  leading the way to a place where Angels have long feared to walk,  at the very core of a time called Never,  and in whose withered embrace stands the fading image of Chaos,  on its knees,  and looking out across a dominion once bent to its will,  and to its whim,  a dominion now bathed in the everlasting Light of Love,  and all borne upon the very Smile,  of Always . . .

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deep in The OurGlass

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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 . . .
.
.
.
.
 

waiting, patiently

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And Through It All

(  there is Grace  )

 

 

each day,  when I think of all the Moments and Memories kept from

ever knowing their beginning or end,  just because my self-centered

regard for your Presence in my life placed you there,  instead of Here,

      it breaks my heart,  again . . .

.

.

013

.    

      for nigh on seven Summers . . .

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.

.

from this Moment, on

.

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.

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 . . .

.

.

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through The OurGlass

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in Proximity,  of Grace

 .

.

.

to have U here,  now,  instead of just there,  are

      MoMeants of an Abundance,  beyond measure . . .

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