and The First, know well . . .




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 . . .




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



in a single drop of Reign




waiting,  for Always






as I


to these


moving so soft

and so slow through

the corridors of my heart,

as liquid,  and falling from a crack

in the sky not even God could ever mend,

I bow my head before the glory of their perfectly

poised array,  like waves,  sent forth from the mighty

Sea of Love itself,  to herald the coming of a Beauty held

captive inside a most terrible Sadness,  one that can only

be pulled free by the very Chains of Awakening,  as if my

tears were being measured not only by their number, 

but a seemingly desperate need for God to finally

understand just how far a human heart can

be filled with such indescribable

Joy,  before it






      breaks . . .




Flights, of Fancy



Joy,  Sticks



Ages and Ages Ago,  the

Angelic Warrior opened a Window

to discover a Virtual Web of Reality

never known in the world of Men,

and before Him,  was arrayed

a LightScape of Wonder,

poised to challenge

The Mightiest of

Explorers,  and

gathering There

inside The Magic,

were The Icons,  standing at

The Edge of Always,  and waiting to say

The Words,

      WellCome,  to The Circus of The Sun . . .




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




The Bells, of WoeBeGone




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 Memory,

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,

ly waiting,  in The Eyes,  of

     Tomorrow . . .




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




and a Candle, in the Window



Owed,  to Joy

(  Spectral Harmony )




words of Love,  flew from his pen,  as though he were machine,

and as he wrote of Where and When,  his heart flew in between,


and there are those he did suppose,  that have no time for this,

so just as well,  he could tell,  Love is nothing they would miss,


from each page,  he quiets the rage,  and so in God he trusts,

through the Wind and through the Rain,  still and all he rusts,


hold no Despair nor troubled Air,  regarding this reddish cast,

for he is glad,  and of iron,  clad,  so his Words of Armor,  last,


he will not bend,  he will not sway,  from this appointed mark,

for the iron man does All he can,  bringing Light upon a dark,


through All The Days,  in All The Ways,  ever he toils ’til then,

     ’til comes a Time,  All will climb,  to this View of Love,  Again . . .




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



from this Moment, on




The River,  in My Hands

 (  and Arms Wide Open  )







as Liquid,

through Each

and Every Corridor

of My Hope-weary Heart,

bathing This Desert of Longing

      in Her Sweet Waters of FullFillMeant . . .

and All The While,  flowing,  SumWhere

within Reach of All Things Dear,  gliding

between A Wink,  and A Promise,  and

wrapped in The Sounds,  of Her

Amazing Grace,


The Very Words

I have walked The Millennia to

hear,  flying Now,  like Diamonds,  across

this UniVerse,  between She and Me,  through a Crack in

      The Sky,  into The Tear in My Eye,  yes to herald The Reign,  of Joy . . .

and with a Voice borne inside The Breath of Eternity,  pouring Forth,  from

 The Panorama of Her Smile,  and as I bow My Head in The Presence of Her

Majesty,  She raises Her lovely Hands,  and lifts My Face toward The Light

      of All Creation,  and then,  She whispers,  WellCome Home,  Angel . . .




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