upon Our upTurned Faces

 

 

The Sky,  in Autumn’s Dream

  

 

 

*

*  *

*      *

*           *

*                 *

*                          *

*                                       *

*                where,  from                *

The Arms,  of Hope,  and The Blessing,  of

Faith,  flew The Wrens of Ever,  Ten Thousand All,

Each with The Memories of EveryThing Dear,  and Each,

with a Ribbon of Forgiveness,  when in The Rush of Wings

came a Voice of Quiet Thunder,  and Whispers of Horses

echoing across The Universe like The Breath of God,

and in One Word,  came One Wish,  Love,

      and It was So . . .

  

 

 

and from Sumwhere inside the very First Tear to caress

      The Face of Joy,  came The Fall,  of The Reign,  of Night . . .

 
 
 
 
 
 
from Book III,  The Diamond ( Third Beginning ) The Twelfth DoveTale – The Symphony of Moments
 
 
 
 
 

the Shackles of Their Blind Desire

 

 

The Shelter of Kindness

 

 

over The Fields and The Forests of So It Was,  where Legions of Lilies stand or sway,  and as Always,  there to dance in The Wind’s Ballet,  The Wrens of Ever gather for one final Thrust into The Hearts of Men,  to tear asunder the Shackles of Their Blind Desire,  and to free from Their Souls the Burdens of Their Empires,  that have laid to want and to waste,  All The Foundations of The Truth upon which They were built,  and justly so,  are now left crumbling under The Wait,  and under The Will,  of Avarice . . .

and somewhere beneath the rubble,  struggling for a precious Breath of Light,  resolute in Its Quest to find a significant Foothold in The Soil of Reason,  and of Redemption,  stands a single Rose,  quietly learning to grow,  without Thorns . . .

 

 

from Dream I – The Eleventh DoveTale