Skip to main content

I Chose Heaven... When I Chose My Belief, and so on...

I Chose Heaven.

In my grant of creating a belief that is my own, yet not of me, but of all those with which I’ve danced, I found allies and angel’s all. I found Love. I dance with Love's spirit as much as I am able. Save my dreams for me, they are sacred.


(We plundered dreams long ago.)

I must not bend my tongue to fashion another’s thought, another’s belief into what I desire, but what she, the mother, the grandmother, the Heart(H) of Love, the (H)eartH, our Home and Heaven, what she must desire...

We know no other!

We cannot know, we can only believe. If we had always believed and known the same thing, we would have always known it and believed it at the same time, in which case, the meaning of “belief” would be rendered unnecessary. For that matter, “knowledge” would lose out. Either way, what we animals, what we, all of life, would have left, is Love.


© 2011 by mark prime


Popular posts from this blog

ROOT OF

"For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs." __1 Timothy 6:10 It is MONEY, not the LOVE of it that is the issue, the true problem. Love, in and of itself, is never a problem, WANT and NEED, or better yet- the WANT and the conundrum of its very REQUIREMENT for our survival IS the problem, it's creation and our blind use of it is logically the ROOT. In other words, let's leave LOVE out of it altogether and deal with the facts instead. If money were not made by us as a requirement for our survival, we'd find ourselves in a much better position to argue of its need and our want of it. MRP Peace and Love © 2015 Mark Richard Prime

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

Access to...

It's odd to me that the future is accessible to God, but we're stuck with remembering the past, it's untenable. History repeats itself from our obsession with it. I say leave history where it is and instead create something of a present worth repeating.  © 2015 Mark Richard Prime