on this Day of Days


      to The Brothers,  and Sisters,  in Arms . . .





      as the Caissons,  go rolling along,  Ever still . . .




in The Silence, of Regard




All Things Clear

(  More,  than Ever  )



it is no longer about who or what I do not have,  or have so recently lost,

but of a far deeper,  and more meaningful Embrace,  within The Arms

of every Blessing now held in a Symphony of Moments that

      colors this Sunset of My Days left here on Earth . . .


and of Those I imagine still,  with such everlastingly beautiful sadness,

I can only hope They are quite safe,  and quite sound,  and Their every breath

fills Their sky with unspeakable Wonder,  and a Peace like no other tells Them

that Their Days will be long savored,  and abundant,  and spent so very

     far away from harm,  and well within the absence,  of fear . . .


yet alas I am diminished,  for in the purpose,  place or proximity once

filled by Their glorious Presence,  there endures only a whisper of an echo

of What Was,  so,  time and again I turn to Remember,  where They dwell, 

      whose Memory holds nothing less,  than The Best Days,  of My Life . . .




on Wings of Farewell




The Peace,  beyond The Pale




Understanding is ever annealed by Grace,

      and The Goodness,  within Our Goodbyes . . .




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




out of The Mists, of Avalon






Castles,  of Iron

 (  on The Sands,  of Time  )



      ~~~~­ *

           ~~­ *


here I stand,

My Sword,  in Hand,

bathed in Her Armor of Grace,

the Dragons,  slain,  darkness,  dead,

      and Her Light,  Always,  shines,  in It’s Place . . .

ο    ο    ο    ο

yes,  gone The Night,  no Evil in sight,

Sorrow’s Fate,  having lost,  the Race,

so,  walk with Me,  through The Gates

of Her Dawn,  and Our Eyes

      will behold,  Heaven’s Face . . .

so,  open Your Hearts,  and

sail Away,  with Me,  across

My River of Tears,  for there

 is where Ever reigns in Peace,

      for All The Days,  of Our Years . . .

so,  come share My Dream,  as

though It might seem,  as We fly

upon these Angel’s Wings,  Away, 

to The Blessed,  beyond All The Rest,

     as We journey,  toward This Voyage,  of Kings . . .





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




on The Pillow of Hope



Dream,  catch Her



and All at Once,

in The Time of a Wink,  and a Promise,

a soft,  luxuriant Hush moves gently through The Willows,

as if Angels,  were whispering to ThemSelves,  of The Days Gone By,

     and of The Days to Come,  and of All These Precious MoMeants in between . . .

and there by The Bend in The River of Souls,  She stands amid a Field of Lilies,

 Each and Every One,  holding The Hopes,  Wishes,  and Prayers of Her Lifetime,

     Each and Every One,  bearing The Weight,  of Her Determination,  and Courage . . .

and as She gazes outward across Her vast Dominion,  She smiles,  for there

on The Horizon,  stands The Rock of Her Perseverance,  and etched in

The Rock,  is The Face of Patience,  and The Look,  etched

on The Face of Patience,  is Peace,

     EverLasting . . .



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