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

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Ebony left, and Ivory right ( The 700 )

 

 

The Whisper

 (  of Horses  )

          

 

                                                  We are The Sand,  flowing through The OurGlass,

                                                                                         The Moment,  before Midnight’s Bell,

                                         We are The Spirit,  of The Redwood Monolith,

                                                                                        The Wishes,  long buried,  in Your Well,

                                      We are The Light,  from A Distant Star,

                                                                                        The Hunter,  of Shadows on The Moon,

                                          We are The Fragrance of The Rose,

                                                                                        The Silence,  between Cries of The Loon . . .

       

 

                                          We have danced for Ages with Daughters of Atlantis,

                                                                                        caressed The Heart of Time,  at Birth,

                                     We have flown The Heavens on The Fires of Ice,

                                                                                       lifted Mountains,  from The Core of Earth,

                                        We have sailed endless Waters of Tomorrow,

                                                                                       seen The Suns of Skies Beyond,  die Away,

                                              We have heard of Your Deepest Sorrow,

                                                                                       sung The Songs,  only The Wind could play . . .

 

 

                                          We will blow Our Trumpets,  with a Breath of Angels,

                                                                                       calm The Rage of Screams,  in Hell,

                                      We will wed The Dyad of Hope and Fulfillment,

                                                                                       build Their Home where Freedoms dwell,

                                       We will dry The Tears of Broken Children,

                                                                                       awaken a World from The Cradle of Night,

                                             We will fly The Doves of Love,  Again,

                                                                                       lay open The Gates,  to The Reign,  of Light . . .

 

 

 

from Book I,  The Ring ( First Light ) The Ninth DoveTale – The Cloak of Simplicity

 

 

 

 

a Shadow’s Embrace

 

 

 

Ouroboros

 (  The Blackest,  of Wholes  )

  

 

horrific . . . and

standing there,  stark among The Galaxies,  as

each heaving breath He takes,  draws billions upon billions of Stars

into the swirling Chasm,  of Oblivion . . . His Form,  an immense Nebulae of

what might have been,  lit from within,  by the serpentine Fires of an unnamed Hell,

     emitting vile and virulent Clouds of unrelenting Rage upon The Silence of untold Æons . . .

a vast and terrible Beauty,  a Colossus,  made living by the sheer enormity of Evil,  and Its

dogs He has lain loose upon The Hearts of Men,  for Ever kept rabid,  and ravenous,  by the

merciless Hunger of an old,  deep and insatiable Darkness,  where Angels are doomed to

walk Eternity in the final Abyss of Fear,  and where The Echoes of Empires have gone to

die,  along with Their Suns,  along with Their Sorrows,  unsung,  and unforgiven,  and

unremembered . . . a ruined Aberration of God,  whose purpose is nothing less

than complete,  utter annihilation of The Very Light of All Creation, 

therefore,  alas,  and oh yes,  The Very Essence, 

      of All,  Things,  Dear . . .

 

 

 

(  Chaos,  waits  )

 

 

 

from Book I,  The Ring ( First Light ) The First DoveTale – The Rhythm of Life