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

 

 

 

 

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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 . . .

.

.

.

.

One Wish

 

 

 

One,  Earth

  

 

          One,

       Whole,

    Perfect Union,           

One Sight,

One Right,

One Light,

One Truth,

One Heart,

     One Love,  Again . . .

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

and Promises to keep

   

               O

                                   ^^

                                          ^^

 

August Moon

 

  

 ~~~~*

         ~~*

   She rolls in every Once in a While,

             and spreads HerSelf Out along

                  The Forgotten Beaches of Our

                tideworn Existence,  washing

     them clean with ageless Waves

of Her everlasting,  and patient Heart   . . .

                                                 *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

from Book III,  The Diamond ( Third Beginning ) The Eighth DoveTale – The Whisper of Fulfillment

 

 

and Lightning, danced

 

 

A Flock,  of Grace

(  behind The Sun  )

 

  

      *

with *

     *

The Might,  of All Things Dear, 

roaring at The Wind,  as an Echo flowed

through The Corridors of Their Hearts,  as

Each,  with Her Shield of Reason,  spoke,

with One Voice,  a Wave of Thunder, 

as Lions,  and They cried,

      nEvermore . . .

 

 

 

from Book II,  The Sword ( Second Sound ) The Third DoveTale – The Rail of Sighs

 

 

 

on The Mantle of Regard

 

 

BraveHeart

  

 

with Tears,  in His Eyes,  for He is crying Still,

yet with a Grace of Eden,  Her Knight of Hope

raises His Mighty Arm toward Paradise,  His

Brilliant Sword of Truth reflecting The Light

in His Eyes,  as He walks,  Ever closer,  to

where His Angel stands,  waiting,  upon

His Chariot of The Sun,  as He looks

into The Window of Her Eyes,  He

lays His Angel down,  At Last,

upon Avalon Again,  and as

He kisses Her so softly,

She dries The Tears

from His Eyes,

as She opens Her Heart,

and releases Her Love,  borne

on The Wings of Ten Thousand

Butterflies,  soaring through

The Gates,  of Dawn,

and once Again,

He whispers,

His Voice,

a Wonder

of Perfection,

as He regards His Legion of Pearls,  and

with a Wink of His Eye,  in The Time of a Promise,

His Sword begins to shimmer,  as if to crack The Sky,  while

      His Words wash over Them,  like Cool Water,  Look Homeward,  Angels . . .

 

 

from Book III,  The Diamond ( Third Beginning ) The Twelfth DoveTale – The Symphony of Moments

 

 

 

A LuminEssence

 

 

 

as The Days,  enfold The Night

 (  by The Light,  of The Sons  )

  

 

i

Here,  in The BrotherHood of Man,  what matters Most

is The Synchronicity between The Mind,  and The Heart,

and The Endeavors born from The Fruit of that process,

yet there is Nothing more Significant,  than when these

Aspects are so cultivated within The Realm of Purpose,

and whose Abundance is measured,  not by The Yield,

     but in The Quality of The Soil,  from which It has grown . . .

 

 

 

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