Skip to main content

The Collective Love...


Goodness is permeating across the globe. Love as a collective consciousness is in full bloom. It's up to me what I permeate, what I put out, what I give. If my belief permeates noise and suffering and fear and anguish, then I will surely reap what I alone have sewn.

Today it is evident, if I choose to see, and I have, that hard on the heels of all unrest is an illuminating resurgence of pure Love. If I’ll embrace this mystifying affection, accept it as a personal truth and begin my walk with Love, without prejudice, without judgment, I’ll begin to see this; my newfound purpose, my freshly risen consciousness, an innate and inextinguishable Love resonating and returning tenfold carrying the familiar blooms of goodness.

Love blossoms no less than a carefully tended houseplant or a child wrapped in a mother and father’s embrace. Love is a natural growth, stunted only by disbelief, by arrogance, by following without truly joining its affection. The inheritors of Heaven must love... without end...



© 2011 by mark prime

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

........•SHRIEKING MACHINE•........                  •HEAD-LINES•                           •RIP•     ---(“Russian missiles blast Ukrainian military academy and hospital, killing more than 50, officials say”)---    There are no more lessons to learn here, no more beds to hold the human wounded, just missile’s shrieking their grotesque ode, The Death of Humankind! RIP, children of God…    ---(“Hundreds attend Mercer Island vigil, march for murdered Israeli hostages”)---    Dear mourners, this is the brutal vacuum of a genocidal, terror-filled, indiscriminate war-machine made of fear and we are all hostages to its deafening roar! RIP, children of God…    ---(“10-year-old allegedly confesses to fatally shooting 82-year-old man and his daughter”)---    I must confess, this is part of war’s shrieking, children lost with a we...
Post a Comment
read the poem

sdrawkcaB nruT (Turn Backwards)

I have been witness to the four pillars and see no reason to carry death there. Doesn’t the world know that life moves for more than just the sons of Abraham? O! I see the stunned throats floating by in the dusk to their stiff-limbed sleep as metal rains down over the Jordan’s western prophet, children dying there. I am here, waiting, breathing in the dusk under the shadow of the patriarch, asking, can we again build the shrine inside the soul and leave our flesh to time? © 2008 mrp/thepoetryman
32 comments
read the poem

Per Plex Ed

            PER+PLEX-ED When you haven’t heard the truth in so long, when you do, it rings a most familiar s ong. That’s the human song, the truth rolling out exactly when it should.      (If a truth is told and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound only to the one that spoke it?)    Yes, but our ears aren’t strong enough to hear it.     [a perplexed silence] © 2017 Mark Richard Prime
Post a Comment
read the poem