I am given this life, given this laughter, given Love, without payment due, without fear of its origin. Love is the one seed. Love says that life and laughter are free, they cannot be bought or sold like a gravestone to mark my corporeal rest. They cannot be bartered for, save for what must be returned in kind in order for Love to greet me with its kiss.
I am given this life, given this dance without partner, it is up to me to go forth and ask another to take my hand, and then another, and another, and another, and another… without end. It is not up to me to say when Love concludes, when life and laughter end. It is only Love's to say, not me. It is Love that is the mechanism for my existing at all. It, by all intents and purpose, is the only Love I know. The only worship I’ll ever know in the flesh.
Love needn’t a book to invoke its song.
Love needn’t a doctrine to summon its dance.
Love needn’t a war to call forth its peace.
Hate divided by hate equals doom... Hate divided by Love equals hate… Love divided by Love equals Love…
Love is not to be halved, or quartered or divided in the least. It is Love. It is Love and the eartH will not allow me to continue my thankless mathematics upon her surface.
I am given this life, given this song, given Love without my say so. I, in my arrogance, had forgotten my creed. I, in my greediness, had forgotten my duty. I, in my warring, had forgotten my kinship. I, in my belief, had forgotten my truth.
I am given this life and laughter, it is not to be bought, or sold, or owned in any way, shape or form. It is to be cherished, as is all life. It is to be dreamed of in my waking, held dear in my dance, held highest, above all else, is Love. Above my dreams, above my work, above my play, above my learning, above my wants, above all else is Love.
I beg of myself to begin the dance with all around me. I plead that I begin in earnest. To hold out my hands in gladness for I’ve much to do, much to salvage, much to cure, much to repair. I needn’t fear the outcome, I only need fear my indifference to the call of Love. I must heed her call. I must recognize my complicity, my indifference to the murder of creation. If I fail to glean her sorrow, her sadness, she will have no other choice but to begin again without my kind.
If that sounds urgent, then I've begun to listen. If it sounds like time is being wasted away in selfishness, then I have begun to listen. If it sounds harsh, or wrathful of my only known beholden, then I have begun to listen. If it sounds crazy, or unbelievable, then I have failed to hear. If it sounds mad, if it sounds maddening, if it sounds impossible, then I have willingly covered my ears to my own collusion.
I cannot consent to the murder of creation. I cannot agree to the terms in which I have set forth, for it is not mine to discern. It is not mine to decide her fate, it is hers and hers alone. How dare I imagine I’ve even a sliver of knowledge when I continue to devalue her? How dare I have the gall to think I know anything more than what's beneath my feet? Shame on me! I have forgotten who I am! I have forgotten where I am! I have forgotten what is most important to my being… Love. Without Love, I’ve no chance to witness my selfish beliefs emerge from the darkness across the dance floor, not one shred of chance if I make a mockery of Love’s power, not an nth of mercy should be expected for how I’ve behaved and continue to behave.
It is Love, Mark Richard Prime, it is Love to which you are beholden. It is Love that can save you. It is Love that calls to you from the ground, the trees, the mountains, the streams, the rivers, the lakes, the air, the creatures. It is Love that summons you now. It is Love that is dancing next to you, reaching out for your hands.
Open your hands and open your heart, and Love will, without one shred of a doubt, enter in.
Go forth, Mark, enter in and Love…
© 2011 by mark prime
Comments
Post a Comment