when all had been said, when all had been done . . .




In The Wake,  of Devotion

 ( Widows Walk )



She looks,  out across the Millennia,  out across an endless path of winter,  in the hope of finding one Day’s respite from sorrow,  worn,  as She wears Her faith,  with the courage of Titans . . .

and deep within Her Heart,  lies Patience,  hiding from the folly of men . . . for they would steal from Her,  all they can never understand,  and they would bury Her,  under all they can never know . . .

and She will carry Her burden through the Ages,  as She,  as Always,  has done,  without the comfort of Solace,  without the shelter of Kindness . . . for in this She stands alone,  listening to The Ring of Truth,  telling Her of all that might have been . . .

and slowly,  She turns toward Yesterday,  and smiles,  as Her Children of The Clouds gather before Her,  to bathe within Her Abundance . . . and Her Eyes catch a glimpse of Wisdom,  as She lays upon Her twilight Path,  from Her Basket of Knowledge,  the Tears that became Stars,  long ago . . .

and in the time of a Wink and a Promise,  She forgives all that came before,  as She walks beside Remember,  there along The River of Souls . . . and in the distance,  drifting in the swells that would soon make quiet thunder upon Her Shore,  anchored to a beachhead of impossible Moments yet to come,  stands Fate,  bound to the deck of a Ship,  called Evemore . . .


*      *      *


and there,  across a Sea of Glass,  walks The Reason Why . . .




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 . . .





there, on The Pinnacle of Choice


and Windows are but Seas of Glass



Imagine, walking through the corridors within you that comprise the essence of your heart, and therefore becoming the sanctuary of the very place where your soul resides.

From this simple act of defining a center of your self, now imagine the depth and breadth of your absolute significance within the grand and glorious design that caused such a remarkable occurrence, or presence, that whispers of understanding the magnitude of your purpose inside the All of it.

Visualize this presence as a sacred dwelling, a divinely inspired manse of awesome and stunning proportions, and far beyond your awakening consciousness to yet fully appreciate, and which now corresponds to the endless array of possibilities that await each and every notion that comes to mind.

For you,  are a most singular aspect, of the magnitude and majesty of Everything, as extraordinary as the light from the Sun that rose on the day you were born,  and as perfectly unique as the gleam in God’s adoring Eye.

And within this dwelling are as many rooms as there are stars in a galaxy, and each room holds again what only the stars could ever know.  And these rooms abound within the infinite corridors of your everlasting heart. And these rooms present the portals, that offer up the doors, that finally embrace the locks that will always require the Keys, of your Knowledge.

Now imagine, that each of these locks, will accept but a single remarkable key, and this key, is one among seven. For these seven keys, are the means by which all wisdom is bestowed, and all wisdom, is therefore achieved, when you have come to realize that your pure existence within and throughout this voyage of Knowledge, is of an unfolding, an arabesque of a delicate and deliberate design.

And this design is the blueprint of your amazing soul, whose primary purpose within Everything is to savor the countless experiences that forge each of the seven keys, that embody each of the seven virtues of living. For the totality of living is what your soul craves, to know what can only be learned by seeking wisdom, inside a journey that begins and ends with Patience, Tolerance, Acceptance, Compassion, Understanding, and Forgiveness, in order to ever find Love, again . . .

Love, is the sole manifestation of order within this universe, and without which there can emerge no process of investigation or examination, and therefore no sustainable need, want, deservance or desire to even pose the question “why ?”. Because, hidden deep within the fabric of humanity lays the thread of our individual and collective purpose, which, having been meticulously sown by the hand of the Almighty has resonated unerringly across the ages within the welcoming yet infinite realm of wonder.

For each and every aspect of understanding, once gathered and held secure by the alliance of faith and courage, transforms all inquiry and analysis into a definitive and glorious tapestry of Knowledge, through which, and ever annealed in the crucible of wisdom, shall emerge the exquisite clarity, of one voice, and ultimately, one truth.




Thy Corona



The Ring,  Round,  The Sun




it does not

 embrace my finger,  nor

wrap around my wrist,  it does not

hang from chain,  for neck,  nor ear,  is kissed,

made not of gold or silver,  nor any jewel from the sea,

no trace or mark,  no crest or seal,  nor fancy filigree,

two shards of iron,  welded,  by a circle of steel,

and there in the nest,  of my palm,  it rests,

to remind me,  the road I walk,  is real,

I hold it for Ever and for Always,

until One Day,  so grand,

when Ever says,

I am home,  Angel,

     and lays it,  in

     Her Hand . . . for

     it is just a Keyring,

     where hangs,

     from Her Heart,

     The Key,

     so joined,

     as The Tears

     of Infinity,

     They,  as

     Love,  Again,

     will Be . . .




from Book III,  The Diamond ( Third Beginning ) The Seventh DoveTale – The Breath of Angels



PostScript:  this piece was recorded as being written on July 4th,  1996,  though I believe the actual keyring was given to me by a very dear friend,  about and for whom so many of these early stories were composed ( and,  to this very day,  I have never met ) and shortly after the  encounter with the lightning took place in ’95 . . .

and the story within this story,  is the remarkable fact,  that I carried this small keyring,  in the palm of my left hand,  held in place by the tip of my ring finger . . . every moment,  every hour,  every day,  every night,  every week,  and every month . . . for four years . . .

and,  on its own,  this would seem quite bizarre behavior,  but there was a bit of purpose-driven madness or motivation beneath the surface . . . for one of the very first things I had to learn,  in order to deal with,  and therefore write of,  the endless river of thoughts and words that flowed through that period of my life,  was Patience . . . and holding that keyring,  for that long,  and in that manner,  was the only way I ever would . . .

regrettably,  the keyring was lost,  in the late Fall,  of 1999 . . .






and Patience, is The Space between




The Gleaning of Life



when U cannot formulate The Question,

      U shall never understand The Answer . . .





from  . . . sumWhere . . .




Knowing, is The Child




The Temerity Prayer



God grant Me the Patience to

reject the Things I cannot change,

Compassion to change the Things I can,

     and finally the Wisdom,  to bestow The Difference . . .





from Book I,  The Ring ( First Light ) The Eighth DoveTale – The Rock of Patience




the Song, and the Dance



Convincing otherWise

(  to Reason  )



He looked out,  across a Sea of Faces,  One by One,  to find

Each holding a Passion,  a Purpose,  and a Promise,

and Each prepared to blame The Next,  for

      The Failures,  of The One,  before . . .

We want Understanding,  They cried,  but Their Cries,  went unSpoken,

We want Forgiveness,  They cried,  but Their Cries,  went unSeen,

We want Love,  They cried,  but Their Cries,  went unHeard,

because All They had forgotten to remember,  was that

Patience,  Tolerance,  Acceptance and Compassion

were NoWhere,  to be found,  among All that had

      Ever remained,  and Always,  to be left behind . . .




from Book II,  The Sword ( Second Sound ) The Fifth DoveTale – The Pillar of Truth




once upon a Dream




Block Buster




                                                    *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *

                        on newsstand,  gift shop,  bookstore or mall,                      *

                        not one trace,  of The Book was found,  at all,                      *

                        each had been begged, borrowed or bought,                      *

                        so any that were left,  would never be sought . . .                 *


                                             The Voyage of Kings                                            *

                                                        IronHorse                                                     *


                         then,  one Morning,  as Peace came at Last,                      *

                         and Patience,  finally,  walked into The Past,                      *

                         there flew o’er The Fields,  a Flock of Grace,                      *

        Ever upon Love,  will Their Shadows,  Race . . . 





Book II,  The Sword ( Second Sound ) The Fourth DoveTale – The Web of Pearls




through a Field, of Stones




The Walk,  of Life

(  Virtuosity  )




Patience,  Tolerance,  Acceptance,  Compassion,  Understanding,  Forgiveness,  and Love,  Again . . .





from,  well,  EveryWhere . . .




behold The Might of Titans



Pageant,  of Lilies

(  GloryPath  )



with Her Eyes,  on Refinement,

Form assumes a proper Place,

followed so closely by Function,

as Elegance decides the Pace,

and there,  between The Lines,

is Honor,  in Hope’s Embrace,

as Fortitude begins the Dance,

while Patience tends Her Lace,

yet,  Last and ForeMost to see,

Dawn’s Light adorn Her Face,

The Angel of Beauty,  walking,

     in The Wake,  of God’s Grace . . .




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