and a Candle, in the Window

 

 

Owed,  to Joy

(  Spectral Harmony )

 

  

 i

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

 

 

by a Magnitude, of One

 

 

Thy Corona

  

  

and Somehow,  in The Softening,  of This Ancient Mist,

If there was truly an Essence,  that draws Us closer,

We will gather Our Senses,  and Our Memories kissed,

 wrapping Her Whisper ’round Our glistening Hearts,

and offer up Our Questions,  and Our Sorrows,  unTold,

inviting Us,  One by One,  toward this rising Tide of

to be honored,  unconditionally,  in This Ring,  of Gold,

Her Serenity,  then We deserve,  The Envy of Most,

and until Our Prayers,  become The Province of When,

     as We dance Our Way,  from The Veil of Her Ghost . . .

     Our Shadows will stand,  in The Light,  of Love,  Again . . .

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

once cast, from a Distant Fire

 

The Prologue

 

A Bridge,  A Cross,  Eternity

(  Before The Beginning  )

 

 

 

i

Far Ago and Long Away, in The Time before Was, in The Land of Because, a Tale of Two Lovers began . . .

on The Eve of Nocturna,  Now known,  as The Wedding of Hope and FullFillMeant . . .

as seen,  through The Eyes of a Butterfly,  called Avalon . . .

as told,  by an Iron Horse . . .

named Sky . . .

      from The Very First Moment,  living inside what could only be called EveryWhere,  was God . . .

      and withIn God,  were borne The Essences,  and The Attributes,  of A Man,  and A Woman . . .

      and The Man and The Woman,  eternally bound as One,  were called Ever,  and Always . . .

      and This Blessed Union of These Two Hearts and These Two Souls,  became Love . . .

and,  One Day,  while walking The Breadth,  and The Depth,  of Their Dominion,

Ever,  turns His Eyes to Always,  and says,  I will walk All The Days of Infinity,

to find One Rose,  as Lovely,  as Your Smile . . . and so He did,  and from that

      Moment on,  until Every Moment since,  noOne has known,  where Ever,  was . . .

  *      *      *

as Always waited,  at The Center of EveryThing She holds Dear,  Ever wandered

 across The Millennia,  following The Light from a Distant Star,  searching The Heavens

for The Meaning of Life,  and finding only,  The Folly,  of Men,  whereEver,  He went . . . and

along The Way,  He was met by Travelers,  solitary Messengers from both Far and Wide,  who

told Him,  of A Rose,  that dwelled in a Place called Avalon,  a pale blue Gem in this Dark Velvet

Sky above Him,  and as He gazes toward It,  He slowly turns to face The Day,  and says, 

The Light of The Millennia,  cast from a Distant Fire,

 roam It will for Ever,  The Path of

      My Desire . . .

 

  

 

 

 

i

for as Long as He can remember,  His Journey had taken Him Far across The Cosmos, 

Far beyond The IcanSea,  Far beyond The Reach,  and Well past The Broken Sound,

      Ever spiraling Outward,  Deeper,  and Deeper,  into The Worlds of Time,  and Tide . . .

as He approached the blue Jewel,  Avalon,  nestled in The Nocturnal Velvet Sky,

at Last,  having known the long,  dark Kiss of Night,  for what felt so like Eternity,

while pondering a place He could not quite remember,  and a Face He cannot

seem to forget,  He moves Forward,  into The Arms of Destiny,  waiting,  upon

      these Shores of Longing,  and finally comes to rest,  upon The Rail,  of Sighs . . .

and All at Once,  He feels a great Hush,  moving slowly across The Universe,

as The Air around Him vibrates softly,  as if The Sky were soon to crack from

The Weight of Certainty,  He knows that The Rose He has walked All Creation

to find is Here,  and just when The Dawn,  gives up Her Promise to The Day,  He

sees,  high up on a Hill,  now etched in His Heart for Ever,  a Man,  nailed,  to a Cross,

      and The Man on The Cross,  was The Rose of Avalon . . . and The Rose of Avalon,  was His Son . . .

  

 

 

and Now,  beyond

All Realms of Chance and CircumStance,

The Story about to unFold,  before Your Very Eyes,

to be held for Ever in Your Heart,  as the Terrible Beauty,

One whose beginning,  aRose,  as One has come to an end,

yet whose Story remained veiled in The Passages of Time,

for Two Thousand Years,

rising Ever so slowly to The Surface,

appearing as Phantoms,  as Butterflies,

dancing across The Ages and Pages,

of wellworn Tomes and Tales,

givenForth,  to mark

The Affairs,  and

Follies,  of Men,

as They searched,

high and low,  for The Meaning of Life,

as They searched The Heavens,  for The Truth,

when Their Truth had been lain asunder,

*   by Their Very Own Sword,  of   *

*              Blind Desire . . .         *

*                                                    *

*                                                    *

*                                                    *

*                                                    *

*                                                    *

*                                                    *

*                                                    *

*                                                    *

*                                                    *

*                                                    *

*                                                    *

*                                                    *

*                                                    *

*                                                    *

 

 

i

and so,  the long,  dark Kiss of Night,  had followed Him,

and It poured slowly down,  over The Kingdom of Avalon, 

over The Fields and Forests of What Might Have Been,  to

      The Mountains,  and The Majesty,  and The Music of Men . . .

and,  as They laid His Body,  behind This Mighty Stone,

Ever knew as He stood,  beneath The Heavens alone,

that He had come so Far,  to find All He had missed,

     and All They are Those,  that A Rose,  once kissed . . .

and this One Rose,  while Only Here,  for aWhile,

left His Mark,  for Eternity,  and,  for All,  a Smile,

for this one Smile He had searched The Stars

to be near,  was found upon The Face,  of All

      Things Dear . . .

so He fell to His Knees and began to pray, 

that He might Return,  to Always One Day,

and as A Rose,  ascended,  upon Angels’

Wings,  He smiled and He remembered, 

      of A Voyage,  of Kings . . .

 and of This Story,  laid before U,  Now, 

are All that remains,  of The Glory,  and how,

a Man,  once called Ever,  who Fate dared to roam, 

put His Words on These Pages,  in a Long Letter,  Home,

and as He remembered who He was,  and where He had been,

       He lit a Candle,  to tell The World,  yes,  He would find,  Love,  Again . . .

 

 

i

and He wrote,  and He wrote,  for the next Two Thousand Years,

through The Agony and The Ecstasy,  and The Sum of Our Fears,

and He wrote,  of Each Moment of Each Day of Our Past,  through

Each Chapter and Each Verse,  though They might be His Last, 

so Every Dream and Every Wish that Ever heard since Then,

could One Day fly away,  beyond These Follies,  of Men,

and,  All that remains,  of His Candle,  so bright,

are These Pages,  from The Ages,  of

      a Kingdom,  of Light . . .

 

 

 

and

so It began,

and Yes,  so It was,

under a Sky to remember,

      and in The Heart,  of Because . . .

They came from Hither,  and

They came from Yon,

and They came

from no Reason,

     so to witness,  The Dawn . . .

and All Eyes were there upon Him,

and Every Soul,  had come so Far to see,

what Tomorrow knew,  and kept from View,

      All that Yesterday,  had Ever promised,  to be . . .

while ‘Lo and Behold,  Their Tale,  to unfold,

gazed down upon this weary World of Men,

a Whisper was heard,  and this Whisper,

 was The Word,  and there began

the greatest Story,  that

      Ever,  told . . .

 

 

 

of The Time before Until

 

 

 

Upon This Midnight Clear

 

 

*

and

SomeWhere,  Now, 

There is Light,  living,  in This

Child’s Eyes . . . SomeWhere,  Now,  This

Child waits as Patience,  for Your Heart to know The

      Reason,  for Your Pain,  and The Purpose,  for Your Sorrow . . . *

SomeWhere,  Now,  there is Understanding buried in

The Memory This Child left behind,  to bear

Your Faith,  Aloft,  and to dream,

of His SomeWhere, 

     Now . . .

* 

 

 

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

 

 

Ebony left, and Ivory right ( The 700 )

 

 

The Whisper

 (  of Horses  )

          

 

                                                  We are The Sand,  flowing through The OurGlass,

                                                                                         The Moment,  before Midnight’s Bell,

                                         We are The Spirit,  of The Redwood Monolith,

                                                                                        The Wishes,  long buried,  in Your Well,

                                      We are The Light,  from A Distant Star,

                                                                                        The Hunter,  of Shadows on The Moon,

                                          We are The Fragrance of The Rose,

                                                                                        The Silence,  between Cries of The Loon . . .

       

 

                                          We have danced for Ages with Daughters of Atlantis,

                                                                                        caressed The Heart of Time,  at Birth,

                                     We have flown The Heavens on The Fires of Ice,

                                                                                       lifted Mountains,  from The Core of Earth,

                                        We have sailed endless Waters of Tomorrow,

                                                                                       seen The Suns of Skies Beyond,  die Away,

                                              We have heard of Your Deepest Sorrow,

                                                                                       sung The Songs,  only The Wind could play . . .

 

 

                                          We will blow Our Trumpets,  with a Breath of Angels,

                                                                                       calm The Rage of Screams,  in Hell,

                                      We will wed The Dyad of Hope and Fulfillment,

                                                                                       build Their Home where Freedoms dwell,

                                       We will dry The Tears of Broken Children,

                                                                                       awaken a World from The Cradle of Night,

                                             We will fly The Doves of Love,  Again,

                                                                                       lay open The Gates,  to The Reign,  of Light . . .

 

 

 

from Book I,  The Ring ( First Light ) The Ninth DoveTale – The Cloak of Simplicity

 

 

 

 

at The Edge, of Oblivion

 

 

Behold The Brightest Star

 

 

­

*

’Lo,

 inside The Sky,  a

Delta,  from an Artist brushed, 

a Fleet of Diamonds,  flying in Silence,  as

*           the Last,  of Winter’s whispered Breath,  is hushed . . .     ­*

then,  under The Light,  of Her Vernal Moon,

as Heaven,  and Earth,  held Their Breath,

a chevroned Wing,  of The Fires of Ice,

     so poised,  at Evil’s Eye,  was Death . . .

*                                                                *

­                                                        ­

 

 

(  and may The Horse,  be with U  )

 

 

from Book I,  The Ring ( First Light ) The First DoveTale – The Rhythm of Life

 

 

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

 

 

 

when The Dawn cracked The Sky

 

 

of Those Present

(  at Creation  )

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

There, in The Path of Eagles

 

 

 

The Wind,  knows The Way

 (  Home  )

  

 

setting out on an August Morn,  upon a Path barely revealed amid the waist-high grasses,

walks a boy,  eyes bright with Promise,  and keeping a determined pace,   in hopes of

finding the source of the Voices,  before the Noonday Sun found him,  too far from

      the deep quiet shade of his yard,  now miles distant . . .

this,  his third attempt,  after brief and random excursions well within sight of Home, 

was to be his most daring,  for he had never ventured this far out onto The Downs alone

before,  and without a single Cloud to obscure an endlessly pale-blue Sky,  his loneliness

      had become All the more Complete . . .

high Above,  a chevron,  small and dark to his periodic gaze,  circling in long,  lazy arcs, 

flew an eagle,  there since Daybreak when his Voyage began . . . He longed for just a

Moment,  to share It’s Domain,  to see with It’s Eyes,  to know,  All that lay beyond

      his earthbound View . . .

the last Trace of a Morning’s Dew left It’s Mark upon his passage,  leaving cool and

silvery Trails upon his skin,  reminding him,  of his thirst . . . yet,  before his Thoughts

became a Wish,  he heard The Sound of The Stream,  running Somewhere,  up beyond

       a Rise . . .

as he slowly gave himself,  to The Height of Wonder,  The Splendor fell Away below him

to a wide and verdant Plain,  a Valley,  in The Sun . . . and there,  standing for All to see,

standing along The Shores of The Stream,  standing in The Light,  of All Things Dear,

were The Lilies,  with Hearts as One,  singing,  with Voices as bright as The Dawn,

and with the palms of his hands,  he dries the Tears from his eyes and beholds

The Sight of Ten Thousand Angels,  heralding The Return of Love Again, 

welcoming him to Avalon,  bathing him in Awareness,  that Each

      and Every One,  knows he bears The Name,  of Hope . . .

 

 

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

 

 

Vox Aeterna

 

 

on the Doorstep,  of unCertainty

  

 

Heaven,  waiting,  as though having caught Chaos holding its breath,  and the Tide of Reason lay unmoved,  as if by some unforgiveable weight of doubt that had rested upon its surface,  and the Moon slowly turning to face an empty Sky,  for the Legions of Stars had quietly faded from sight,  without leaving even a trace of the Light they had shepherded across the Millennia,  and therefore assuming that its Memory was all mankind needed,  to escape what might have been,  and to embrace,  what could never be imagined . . .

 

 

The y in Myth

 ( and the i in faith  )

 

 

amid the mindless horrors of our daily Existence,  and the endless gathering of evil’s dogs about us,  and the knowing full well of the outComes within Heaven’s glorious Intent,  there still lies within the ever-fading darkness an undeniable breath of unCertainty,  whose very essence moves so phantom-like beneath The Smile on The Face of Because,  and unbidden,  lays its long and loathsome shadow,  aCross,  The Heart of The Reason Why . . .

 

 

 

from The Journals,  as yet unpublished,  and unremembered