Donna Darkwolf in Her Rose Garden

“O Euchari in Leta Via”. Vision, by Hildegard von Bingen. O.S.B. (Order of Saint Benedict).
The Reverend Mother von Bingen was a German Benedictine Abbess.
She is known as Saint Hildegard and also as the Sibyl of the Rhine.
She was a philosopher, Christian mystic, writer, composer, visionary, and a polymath of the Middle Ages.
Composed by Richard Souther. Vocalists: Sister Germaine Fritz O.S.B. and Emily van Evera.

Donna Darkwolf loved listening to this spiritually uplifting music in her Rose Garden on a Sunday Morning, where she has laid out our breakfast picnic on the lawn.

Today I will breakfast with the Goddess Isis. Or Queen Nefertiti. Or the Goddess Ma'At.
I do not know. It will be at once a pleasure and a Test.
Donna Darkwolf is not "looking" AT you.
She is WATCHING you...

Religious people like to belive that "God is watching over" them.
Without imagining how this could occur.

It happens like this - some one is watching you. Who ever it is, is the eyes of your god at that moment. IF YOU NOTICE THE LOOK.
Miss the LOOK - and you MISS!
You remain blissfully ignorant of your own lack of attention.
Believing in a god you do not actively seek - is just a silly fantasy.
Good luck with that.

Donna enjoyed going to the Wimpy nearby for breakfast - but I convinced her that I could do it here, at home.
Two eggs sunny side up, hash browns, fries, fried sausage, bacon, fried tomato, 2 slices toast and orange juice.
So while I whip up breakfast, Donna lays out a blanket and some cushions. Gets glasses, serviettes and cutlery.

When I arrive with two plates of "Breakfast A La Wimpy!", she is so thrilled, she exclaims: "THIS! I want to do more often!"
Thus began our tradition of picnic breakfasts.
(We still had to go to Wimpy for her dessert: a Knickerbocker Glory)

This is from a collection of writings that I wrote to Donna Darkwolf over the years.
I thought it necessary to include them to satisfy my own selfishness. And to provide my own insights of this most remarkable Spirit.

I Will Find My Way Back to The Rose in Your Garden, Donna Darkwolf


I must tell you, that sadly: “We are never like the Angels till our passion dies” – does this mean that I may never become an Angel?

You will recognize Your own Angelic Self in this story. Recognize the passion that keeps us inextricably entangled. In reality this is my recollection of my love of You.
For there was only ever one of you, and you existed in all these times, sins, crimes and climes. Even in all of your assumed identities, I could always find You out.
Perhaps I have to consider that you ran me down to earth.
To the good earth. For women are the sure Destroyers of the Dreams of Men.
Once a man has a woman in his life - he is forced to FACE REALITY!
Now begins THE TEST!
I knew you all my life. In my Dreams. In my paintings.
Now I awaken to the Reality of You, every morning, Donna Carrissima. And I am never unhappy.
You gave me your most precious prize. You were always with me.
And, you always will be.

My Love and My Very Life Itself

I should apologise, Mi Donna Corazón? But of course I will not... What! Not apologise for the lack of historical sequence.
There is an apology for lack of sequence? I know none... none. I disavow a predetermined impulse to present scenes out of context or conversations out of moment.
For the simple reason that I have had to bear the very same words several times over.

There is no chronological order here. I do not believe that literature should mirror reality.

As a clock does not create time, a book does not create reality. Rather a book creates the illusion of reality, as a clock creates the illusion of time.
The sentences are the springs and cogs:

I dedicate this to my Bella Strega. My Oasis in a desert of Time and Space

I dedicate this book to you, my Donna Darkwolf, who was always, always my first love, always in my thoughts, always a wish for my life… who will read this, and who will know, understand and accept this Libra Vida for what it is: A search for a home for my one and only heart.
And I am not speaking here of that physical organ behind this cage of bone.
You will recognise your Self in this mirror that you now hold and know that you are the Celebration of My Life.

I anticipated your arrival with just a little nervousness.

I do not know that I could have gotten here, without you to assist me, Mi Bella Fiore.

Donna Darkwolf and I Anniversary at Life Grand Cafe

Above: Donna Darkwolf and I Celebrate Our Anniversary at Life Grand Cafe.

Be advised, Donna Mia that we found each other by trick, design and machination that are too colorfully bizarre.
There were no chance meetings, coincidences, or hypothetically random circumstances.

The night I found you - Destiny whispered to me, her breath in my ear:
“The one you are Seeking - is also Seeking you".

We plotted, schemed, planned and intrigued to arrive at a place where once our paths met – it was inevitable that the outcome would justify the means.
Right? This manuscript is dedicated to that special Angeli De la Strega… Donna Darkwolf

You, Donna Strega. The Witch who loves me as tenderly, deeply and fiercely as I love you. To you, who have been the inspiration for my art, (for surely you are in many of my explicit paintings, and clandestine photographic expeditions) my writing, (I would not have written if I had not been inspired by your own sublime attention, affections and non-attendance), the poetry of my passion and my insatiable desire for you, who made some of my wildest fantasies a reality...
And a few of my worst nightmares real, to boot.

VISION: Hildegard von Bingen

This is my dedication to you who comprise the facets of That One That I Love. The Girl of Summer.
The Angel of Light. My Spanish Dancer, My Wife, My Concubine, My Mistress, My Witch of Memory.
My Sister Spirit. My faithful and fierce Dark Wolf, on the trail of my journeys path.

But Life is bigger, It's bigger than us. You Taught me so well all that I know,
And I used my dreams of you to find Me.
Donna Mia - you are My Compass.
That is how I found YOU, to begin with.

Your Franco

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