the Pillars, of the Urth

 

 

*

­*

*

­*

*      *      *         *      *      *

­*

­*

*

*

*

­What Lies,  ThereIn

(  of Spires,  Steeples,  and Stained Glass  )

*

*

there

has come

certain Pages,

down through the Ages,

      that have shown Us The Light of Dei . . .

yet still,  We stand,  with Our Swords,  in Hand,

and Vengence raging in Our Eyes,  to find The Reasons, 

for Their Treasons,  through All Our Seasons,  as if We All so lived,

under different Skies . . . and still,  We do pray,  for that Light,  of Dei,

and never really knowing The Why,  because,  We stare at The Faces,

      and laud All Their Graces,  as if,  it were Do,  or Die . . .

 

 

 

 

from Book I,  The Ring ( First Light ) The Eleventh DoveTale – The Shelter of Kindness

 

 

 

The Art, of Significance

 

 

 

Vox Eterna

 

 

The Words that We place upon the Pages,

whether Chaulk,  or Ink,  Bled or Brushed,

are torn from Our Heart,  to last The Ages,

     to live beyond,  Our Last Breath,  Hushed . . .

 

 

 

 

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