of Lions, and Butterflies

 

 

 

The Light,  upon a Dark

 (  A Monarch,  of peerless Grace  )

 

 

i

rising,  up through The Mists of unCertainty,

breaking Free,  of the Long Dark Kiss of Night,

unfurling a glorious wing’d Tapestry of The Colors

of Humanity . . . Each Hue and Cry,  of Days,  gone by,

      gently streaming,  in the brilliant Abundance,  of Her Wake . . .

every Sight,  and every Sound,  quietly gathers in A Symphony

of Moments yet to be,  while a Host of Stars slowly come to rest,

to witness,  and to wonder,  of The Courage,  about to lay ItSelf

       down upon The Land,  and Yes,  upon The Follies,  of Man . . .

 

 

 

from Book III,  The Diamond ( Third Beginning ) The Ninth DoveTale – The Shield of Courage

 

 

Anam Cara

 

 

of Kingdoms, Come

 

 

Eagle’s Trace

 

 

       ~~~~*

         ~~~*

*

there,

under The Moon,

closer,  yet so far Away,

quiet,  though a Siren yet to be,

something Wonderful,  this way comes,

and soon,  You will know The Kiss of Always,

You will know The Glory of Grace,

[]      []      []      []

They are sailing,  on Her Radiance,

on Sunships,  on Her Chariots of Light,

to awaken You from The Cradle of Darkness,

to herald The Dawn of The Kingdom of Forgiveness,

to lay open The Gates to The Empire of The Everlasting Sun,

to welcome You,  inside The Embrace of The Heart of The Diamond,

to remember,  that which was nEver forgotten,  The Memory of Love,

[]       []       []       []       []       []       []

and The Place,  inside You,  where lies The Echo,  of All Things Dear,

The Echo of a Promise made to You,  somewhere in Time,  eons Ago,

inside The Palace of Rain,  on An Isle in Paradise,  under A Cyan Sky,

amidst The Brilliance,  of Her Host of Stars,  Her Legions,  The Eyes of Heaven,

Their Passage ceased,  to Witness,  and Wonder,  as Her Story was told to You,

a Tale of a Web of Pearls,  woven in fine silver Thread,  The Thread of Her Heart,

spun,  from Her Wings of Joy,  and baptized,  within The Pools of Your Innocence,

[]      []      []      []      []      []      []      []      []      []

as You stood,  a Candle in Your Hand,  and Courage in Your Soul,  whispering of Days to Come,

when a Universe would hear Your Song,  once again,  and bathe in the Cool Water of Friendship,

taste the sweet Nectar of Freedom,  know the Fragrance of Roses,  grown in Her Field of Dreams,

   as Your Whisper became The Voice of Her Myriad,  as The Voice became The Breath of 10,000 Angels . . .

 

 

 

 

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