from this Moment, on

.

.

.

in The Shelters,  of Kindness

(  behold this Flock,  of Grace  )

 

They arrive,  from anywhere,  without name or number,  rescued,  recovered,  or reclaimed from often desperate or destitute surroundings,  circumstances,  or abuse,  or from being ‘tagged’ for an early and unmarked grave within a system or society so overwhelmed with mismanaged or misguided intentions,  doled out with all but enough compassion,  concern,  or common sense,  that sympathetic and lasting remedies or resolutions are only found in the all-too-rare instances of extreme generosity,  perseverance,  and understanding,  and of course,  kindness . . .

Their ‘crimes’ against human sensibilities are those that only become obvious when they are cast out from among the ‘beloved’,  who are no longer able or allowed a chance to exist within a sanctuary offering those simple and precious acts of benevolence we ourselves could not live without . . . somehow surviving without a smile,  a touch,  a softly-spoken word,  or sustenance,  a roof over their heads,  a safe haven to call their own,  or just the warmth that radiates from the nearness of friends,  family,  or loved ones . . . the very air they breathe only echoes with the whispers of their abandon,  for they have found themselves no longer welcome or wanted,  by a world no longer listening to or well beyond caring for,  these once kindred spirits and companions . . .

Yet,  they were born in innocence,  and therefore with just as much right,  perhaps even a divine blessing,  to be called or regarded as God’s Children as are their human counterparts,  and are just as or even more deserving of our compassion or largesse than what defines our civic or social obligations,  or what we,  by statute,   bestow upon some of our own outcasts and misfits . . . by the sheer vagaries of fate or misfortune,  and the crush or cruelty that comes from having no other choice or defense against it,  is that the only promises in life they are guaranteed to know or have fulfilled,  are unending hunger,  and bone-deep loneliness,  for all the rest of their days . . . unless . . .

My sincerest hope,  and yes certainly the wish of every soul born into this world to ever witness or to wonder of this heart-rending travesty,  is that I can try to ‘lift them up’,  to ease the burden of their sorrows or hardship from their shoulders,  to give back to them what they have so selflessly brought into this heart of mine,  and if at all possible,  to begin to mend theirs . . . to listen to their stories,  to be their voice for as long as it takes for them to be heard,  or at least until they are lucky enough to find a new home,  and become significant and dear to others,  and in turn hold them as dear,  to live within the absence of fear,  and to one day re-emerge within the purpose God gave them,  to really matter in this world just enough,  to find and give love,  again . . .

And yes to thank them,  for being who and what they are,  and for bringing the reason ‘why’ back into my life,  and for allowing me a chance to really understand the true meaning of the word ‘humanity’ . . . which,  after all,  is exactly the reason why God adorned this earth with their presence,  and their purpose,  in the first place . . . because in their aspects,  we will always see grace . . . and in their eyes,  we will forever see,  ourselves . . .

.

.

.

.

Advertisements

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 . . .

.

.

.

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.

 

 

 

The Savoring

 

 

 

Pearls,  of Wine

(  and Roses  )

 

 

Words flown,  for Eyes beyond Our Own,

must carry with Them,  The Clarity of

Truth,  The Wisdom of Reason, 

and whenEver,  The Art,

      of Simplicity . . .

*               *

*        *

*    *

*  *

* *

* *

* *

* *

*   *

*        *

*      *      *      *      *      *

 

 

 

Words flown,

 for Eyes beyond Our Own,

must carry with Them,  The Clarity

of Truth,  The Wisdom of Reason,

and,  whenEver,  The Art,

      of Simplicity . . .

 

 

 

 

from Book II,  The Sword ( Second Sound ) The Third DoveTale – The Rail of Sighs

 

 

 

moving Heaven, and Earth

 

 

 

A Certain Kind,  of Nice

 

 

 

Reason,  is The Faith,  if We believe in Our Endeavors,

     just as Faith is The Reason,  We believe in OurSelves . . .

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

a Symphony of Moments

 

 

Among These Fields,  of Gold

   

 

if there exists a single Reason,  for why I love U,

     it is because U have made My Life,  worth living . . .

 

if there exists a single Reason for living My Life,

      it is because U have offered a Life,  worth loving . . .

 

 

 

from Book I,  The Ring ( First Light ) The Fourth DoveTale – The Ribbon of Love

 

 

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 . . .