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The Thread of Love


The thread of Love’s forever blossomed; the thread of fear is most cumbersome at the bottom.

Who will dare to ask that they be absent from this trial? Have you better things to do? Are you so wrapped up in your ideas you’ve no room for truth?

Can we commence our spirits to walk with Love? Come! Let us begin anon. Take the lead that all might follow. Eternity kisses our wits and chides us for being so sightless, only to caress our striding limbs, bidding us to slow our pace, listen, reflect and love.

Dearly to that which is beneath our glance, glance her in your waking dream, glance with her as lover, kiss her like you would your mother, on the cheek just because it feels as right as rain.

Step. Step. Step. Good! Now mommy’s going to let go of your hand… only for a moment or two, but don’t worry, it won’t be like its forever.

It’ll come to you nodding at your bed. It’ll creep into you like the picture of your devil. It’ll bring you sinking just beneath her grip. And in your story, the darkness speaks your mind alone, and you, it’s sad to say, get to reap exactly what you alone have sewn…


© 2011 by mark prime

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