There's this story within all of us, it is wedged deep within from our birth, impossible to be removed, Creation has a sure grip on it.

The story's one of equality, one of kinship, a DNA journal of sorts, an evolutionary accordion within the constant breath of Life.

(How did it begin?)

It matters not, for we cannot know at this juncture of the learning curve.

(How does it end"?)

It doesn't end, at least not as imagined by we frail beasts of belief, it is, however, most relevant how we proceed as brothers and sisters of a loving and peaceful collective within this story of We.

(Is it a tragedy or comedy?)

...It's up to us how the story proceeds on the human scale, the constant flux, not so much.

(Sounds tragic.)


(It's out of our hands.)

Then you aren't listening, and that may well be the only tragedy that is, our inability to hear or scribe a story worth repeating.


© 2015 Mark Richard Prime, I am.



Lock them away instead of teach them to be free
Shackle their ankles and wrists
Put apathy in their lunch
Between History and Economics
Let the bell ring
They're not going anywhere

© 2015 Mark Richard Prime, I am.

Stand For

If I stand for my birth
Like I so easily breathe
If I rise to the occasion
If I wake to the person I can be
I'll fill the words with persuasion
Not imagine I'm alone
I'll see so many like Me
So many like you
The mirror reflecting our soul
An echo come round to greet us
The rising sun brings laughter
And I brought the truth
Harder than bringing forth Peace
Because harmony is the peak
The rain pours, the wind too
Hand in hand, thunder and soil
I will sing this song,
I will pray for freedom
For all, for thee, for you...

© 2015 Mark Richard Prime, I am.


The song plays over and over
It rolls its drums
It plucks its strings
It breathes a symphony
What of Love
What of Peace
What of our Laughter
We've been Forgiven, haven't we
The drum thumps out its note
The cello strums its ocean
The conductor bends now in the wind
Let me usher in my muse
Let me find the water and the food
Enough to feed them all, nourish them
Feed them, clothe them, a symphony rising
This song plays over and over
Again and again
It rolls its drums
It plucks its strings
It breathes a symphony
Me and you. You and Me

© 2015 Mark Richard Prime, I am.



Jason Lisle: "If God doesn't exist, there's no such thing as evil."

Dear Jason, you do realize that in that you are saying that God created evil, right? Then you followed that with, "The fact that there is evil in the world is proof of the existence of God."... I don't think you understand what you're saying, brother. God did not create evil. I believe that since "evil" exists, and God did not "create" it, it is only proof that humankind is a foolishly fearful beast.

If evil ceases to exist, does this mean that God ceases to exist? It's a circle, Jason, best you remember that... MrP

© 2015 Mark Richard Prime, I am.


Soar When You Know of Love's Consent

Dear Exactness, have I not suffered enough by your allowance in Hell as some form of a justifiable punishment? That would be most monstrous! I deny it access to our story, I am the balance…

(Who are you talking to now, Prime?)

Whoever hears Me, so you, of course.

(Of course.)

When it is heard, this story unfolding against our will, it’s not called the constant flux for nothing, it is meant to be in constant flux, as are we.




The flux of three…

No. I needn’t know in order to act, that kind of action gets you into trouble. Blindly is not the way, knowing where you are going is good and allowing God to guide you…

Do we need some test in order to learn a lesson, or the lesson? Do we need it or do we want it? Want is the opposite of Love. Love is born of need. Hello. I am.

Dear Lovely angel Love, you are a most righteous woman, not necessarily of the self-variety, but the mislaid plans of another shall never find you, I will keep all safe. You are so ready to Love Me, not the man I was, but the man I am now… You are my guide my love, both flesh and spirit, we’re betrothed to God. I love you. You are Forgiveness. Sleep tight my Lovely angel Love... May our spirits mingle still as mine goes in the alleyway to smoke, or at the bench in the park.

What a lovely painting, grandfather!

(Thank you, my son. But you needn't concern yourself with what you do, you should focus more on what you believe to be true. Soar when you know...)


© 2015 The Scribe, with Love's consent, MrP