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

 

 

 

 

between The Sand, and The Foam

 

 

of Kingdoms,  Come

 (  and Gone  )

  

 

A small piece,  by

 most standards,  pummeled,  and polished,  by

 countless hands,  just a bit of gold that had witnessed the light of

a billion stars in a myriad of skies,  since its first purpose,  acquired a pair of

shoes for a carpenter,  who plied his craft on boats down by the river . . . odd indeed, 

the notion of a poor tradesman falling under fortune’s favor,  by possessing even one in a

lifetime,  for its faces were accustomed to nobler cuts of pocket or purse,  lined with a finer

cloth or the rarest hide . . . stranger still was the voyage of this coin of a realm,  once cast to

honor the folly of men,  and an empire now two millennia dead . . . by land and sea,  across

times and continents,  marking a journey of simple and stunning complexity,  a coin,  all

battered and worn,  yet with a hidden splendor,  waiting just below the surface,  lies

shining,  in a morning sun . . . until one day,  a woman,  guided by the grace of

God,  walking along a path of friendship,  beholds a reflection,  and

lowers her hand to touch the rose,  emblazoned for

      Ever,  upon her heart . . .

 

 

 

from Book I,  The Ring ( First Light ) The Sixth DoveTale – The Grace of Swans