Oct 17


The Age of Smart advents a glorious panoply of technology and artificial intelligence served in a heady rush as the panacea for all that ails.

Yet with each Age comes the very same trial, the same quest for relevance, the same cost where sword and words draft the sinews of line, and the same pain and ecstasy in manifesting through choice…

Let us choose with vigilance as we craft new matrices lest they entangle us.

Aug 17



I dream of you
Through aether and vapour
Past wisps of cumulus castles
Floating in indigo heavens

I touch your hands
Reaching for mine
Sweet sacred verse
A prayer in dream

Dream unto flesh
And whisper I love you
With breath of ages
To come…


Mar 17



As always there is another day,
And today is it.
Quantum finally opened here eyes
To find a blue feather by her bed.

She raised the feather and whispered,
And set it on flight to Eden
In the hopes that the Fairy would
Find the answer in her heart.


Mar 17


“Darling love…”

Quantum stirs from her slumber wrapped in white silk fur.  She adjusts her eyes to find the blue Fairy standing above her, silhouetted in the glow of new morning’s sun shafting through the openings of her tent walls.

“Your time shall come,” the Fairy continues in whispered spell.  “Outside of birth and death I invoke all that is to be, sweet Quantum; and the Gods of yore and those that will come anew will hear and heed thy battle cry.”

Fairy reaches down and caresses Quantum’s raven hair as the young princess closes her eyes and lays her head back to sleep.  A feather from her right wing falls to the floor next to Quantum’s head as the Fairy spreads her wings to take flight…

Read…,” she whispers one last word.

Mar 17


She emerged over the crest of the promontory laid in heather that veiled meadow and moorland, wearing her bare-shouldered white tattered embroidered dress and bare feet pained by thorn and thistle and bramble.  In her left hand she carried the battalion’s standard and arm and seal.

Behind her rose a hundred men with fierce eyes bearing muskets and bayonets jabbing the morning mist, awash with clank and din, and thirsty for the blood-filled chalice.   Their random cadence rumbled, craving ransom from cradle to grave, assembled by grace…

“Halt!” she raised her right hand to signal the men. “Why have you not answered me?” she demanded of the Fairy before her.

The blue feathered Fairy stood — nay, hovered, with wings spread wide, glistening in the morning’s hazy light.  She had no answer to give.

“Fairy, what of Ruth?  Why have you no account nor recount, nor have you any trace of the import of David?”

The Fairy looked into her eyes, silently.

“Speak Fairy, have you not traced the story of Ruth from the breast of Hecate and its mystery?”


“Then, so it shall pass.”

And with that declaration Quantum once more raised her right hand and this time turned her men around to vail to valley and river for tomorrow’s ambition anew.