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The Ground Stood Sacred (four)


The sky was clear, the stars glistened with rhythm, the ground stood sacred, openmouthed with sorrow like the gaping of a self-inflicted bereavement, a cheerless revelry meant to imprison truth’s throbbing, a delay of my own failure.

The stars then spoke to me, seek goodness in all things. Resist all suffering. Cleave away all noise that nests within prejudice. Hoist no flag, nothing that separates you from Love's kinship.

The wind tossed its breathing over the yard, conjure no name, face, or verse for the creator. Place no demands upon others. Walk in kindness. Love.


© 2011 by mark prime
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