born in the gleam of God’s adoring eye . . .

 

 

‘lo, through a Crack in The Sky

( a Rush, of Wings )

.

.

.

the Albatross,  whose name has always been Steadfast,  holds within his unwavering eyes the first pristine spark of a SunRise,  now bringing the long-awaited promise of the return of The Light of Day down across the fields and the forests of the Land of Because, down through the corridors of the human heart,  where once was whispered the Music of Angels,  and down ever still into the depths of Oblivion,  whose memory now tries to forget,  all of the darkness we will soon cease to remember . . .

and gazing westward,  which will one day be called EveryWhere,  the Albatross slowly turns to regard the Urth,  now hanging by a thread,  so fine and silver,  and woven from the Tears of Heaven itself,  and he smiles,  because he knows that his long and lonely journey through the endless Kiss of Night is over,  and that all he had ever been asked to do has been done . . . and he lays his sweet sorrows down along the Rail of Sighs,  in the very same place,  where once there laid a handful of nine-inch nails,  whose traces still scorch the time-worn face of Regret,  that are now and for Ever etched into the redwood timbers of the now complete spoke of The Great Wheel, that Always had built as one, of The Seven Bridges of Why . . .

and as The Dawn of The Ages lifts higher above the horizon,  and flows as liquid down upon the realms of Certainty,  the Albatross finds himself standing within the quickening presence of a moment that even Eternity has long been waiting for . . . and from out of the blue,  the Sister of The Sun of Man walks toward him,  and with a nod from Patience, and a smile from So It Shall Be,  She walks on past, and into the embrace of all that Yesterday could ever have hoped for,  and all that Tomorrow could never have known . . .

and walking with a determined pace,  with the might of Titans defining the strength of Her divine purpose,  She steps out at last into Her Universe,  so long denied Her,  and so long and lost in the throes of blind and belligerent desire,  and She lifts Her welcoming arms up with the Grace of Swans, and to the galaxies swirling in Her Eyes,  She speaks . . .

.

ease My Reign

.

for Her name, is Mercy,  and She has come, to seize, The Day . . .

.

*       *       *

.

and deep in the star-fields of the Dominion of Always,  in a place well within the reach of Her infinite regard,  and so perfectly balanced inside the sound of Her voice, a pale-blue gem in a sapphire sky slowly turns to face Paradise,  where an Ibis,  born Resolute,  gazes out across the Shores of a place once called Camelot,  out across a new whirled now bathed in flows of Compassion,  where fireflies dance amidst the laughter of Her Children of The Clouds,  and where roses now grow without the burden of thorns, and where a butterfly now rests upon the back of an Iron Horse,  who finds himself standing still, and staring in wonder at a trail of footsteps left where the sand meets the foam, and revealing the presence of The Prince of Peace,  walking once more and in the distance, and there at the edge,  of The Sea,  of Love,  Again . . .

 

.

.

.

while under an august Moon

 

 

 

The Origins, of Kindness

( what Always, said, to Ever, when Ever, said, GoodBye )

.

.

Flamei
go, My Darling, and do what U must do,

and I will never, think the Less of U,

and whereEver U may wander,

and whereEver U may fly,

take My Light to guide

U, so that Wonder

      paints, Your Sky . . .

and to savor This,

of Our Last Kiss, as

each Morning gives Promise

to The Day, remember Always, that I

     love U, and as Always, My Love will light, The Way . . .

 

.

.

from the Crucible of Love

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Ivy, and The Dove

 

.

.

as Time’s wake

draws It’s shadow across

The Corridors of Her Heart,
o              o
She looks to The Universe,
V
upon Her Celestial Sea,

a Nocturnal Velvet

of Her Dominion,

toward The Shores of

Avalon, toward Her Sunrise,

      a shimmering, and distant, Cyan Sky . . .

She remembers, Echoes of Days, and Nights,

Long Ago, when Her Fireflies laughed at The Moon,

as They walked as One, along The Path to KnowWhere,

quietly regarding Their Reflection in Pools of Innocence,

Windows of Each Other’s Eyes, in Their Secret Eden,

under The Gaze of a Mockingbird, Their Sentry,

before whom All shall pass, She remembers,

when They danced, across The Heavens,

when They sailed across The Sea of Glass,

when They made Love in The Fires of Creation,

when Their Whispers in The Morning ignited The Suns

of Skies Beyond, when, from Their Blessed Union was born
I I I                         I I I
The Light of The Millennia, Eons Ago, She remembers, and waits,

as Always, at The Point of Eternity, for The Return, of Her Love, Again,

yes, She remembers, a Time before Memory became The Well of Fallen Tears,

She remembers The Days before Infinity cried, The Days before The Music died,

She remembers, and lights a Candle, and smiles, longing for Ever Still,

yes, She remembers, and as Always,

      She will . . .

 

 

 

 

from Book III – The Diamond – The Eighth DoveTale – The Bridge of Dreams

 

 

for a very dear Friend,  of mine . . .

.

.

 

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

 

 

 

 

carried across untold aeons

 

 

 

as the echo glides through the Universe, it gathers strength from every prayer along the way, for the cloak of darkness will no longer keep it hidden from the heart of All Things Dear, nor hinder it from fulfilling the promise of the return of the Light, of Love, Again . . .

and as the hush of Silence guides its path through the heavens, and the memory of the journey begins to unfold, one by one, the legions of Stars assemble in its wake, to cast their blessing upon the upturned faces, of each and every child, of God . . .

 

 

 

 

 

The Voyage of Kings ~ A StoryTeller's Dream

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

 

 

 

in a single drop of Reign

.

.

.

waiting,  for Always

 

.

.

*

.

as I

listen

to these

DoveTales

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 . . .

.

.

.

and beyond the reach of Kings

.

.

.

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 . . .

.

.

.

.