CONFESSION ZERO (The Weaver's Song)

She moves like her mother, her glitter rounding the bend long after she’s passed, her breath tickling my throat that’s hunched in wait as I seek the next meal and offer my hand for the next dance with the shadow spirit come to watch me dig in the gutter for food.

I glimpse her in the child that comes to play from time to time, eyes beaming with curiosity, small hands thrumming the floor of heaven.

The glancing light is best to show who I am, the vivid beams are for who I’ve become.

Choose.

Light my way back to me or light me back to my former beast, either way, I’m on this journey home. When I arrive, I hope to see you there, with your hopeful whispers in my throat, an undying Love still etched inside your smile.

I get a glimpse of the self when I love. It’s nice to see you, too…

I’m going to end up paying for my tongue, paying for my deceit like a thief shackled to his own treachery, like a marauder stumbling along into the night, forgetting that the lanterns that poke through the mantle draping the cradle of Love were meant for all life too.

My promise of, I will, I pray for her to relinquish me, that I might be alive another night, another day forgone of my dreams without decline.

I’m going to pay for my actions, pay through the throat of my disbelief. I’d eyes enough to see it, senses enough to gauge her rocky flesh as theirs, and mine.

Let us begin to fly…

Take your name and put it into the beginning and the end and it will surprisingly fit right in, if your veins can handle all of the broken pieces from the last failure.

Can we find a place within to live without our finding Love?

You stay and play with the children, I’ll go to the end and back thinking you’ll be there to greet me. You stay and tend the fields, I’ve got things I need to get done before any applause meets my deeds! You stay here and clean the water, I’ll be silent... if you’ll but remember I had no choice. You stay and protect my diamond and forgive me for the better part of me not coming until now.

I didn’t know who I was, didn’t know who you were, just two spirits dancing with the other and the other and the other and never breathing as it should be, never loving as was meant to be, always dancing sadly and painfully across the span.

What is holding me back?

Unseen questions part my lips not knowing where I’d been or who I’d seen, the face that had wandered out into the night sky only to find his feet to be right at home.

A glance is all we live to see, if we’d sense that our lifetimes are eternal, every breath, every smile, every laugh, and every Love set to come our way.

Listen to them, easily beginning to pray when they’re afraid! The shadows drape their tombs like Willow trees bending down to answer them.

Would they have prayed for all else but self if it meant they’d have afforded another new queen her Heart(H)?

Trembling limbs and quivering wits have refuge in that storm. It’s the wavering night and shadows that bother you most. Sleep at night and dance with all of your spirits in private of all of those you’ve ever met. Begin.

Without choice you’ll act. Without thinking you’ll act and react. Without hesitation you’ll run toward truth.

Follow me or follow yourself, the difference is unimaginable, yet tragically lamentable.

After serving her country, female veteran struggles to find a job
The veteran stands straight-eyed, staring forward, scanning the crowd with an awareness of a lengthy battle, bruised skin, busted limbs and broken spirits.

The wounded insurgency extends around the city like a naval blockade, faces ashen, waiting for a Coup de grace.

Dozens of Occupy protesters arrested in Texas, Oregon
The wolf hunts with packs. Yes.
The bird flies with flocks. Yes.
The elk run with herds. Yes.
Activist rebels with love?

Early snowstorm hits US East Coast killing at least six
The first snow came early that year. It sat forlornly upon her lap, upon her confident Love.
The first snow came early this year. It stood with a heavy caution upon our disgrace.

Why Zombies Never Die
Would you?
Yes.
Would you die only to live forever?
Yes.
Would you live only to die forever?
Yes.

If you were a zombie would you never die?
Yes.
If you were a zombie would you die to live forever?
Yes.
If you were a zombie would you live to die forever?
No.

More time is needed if we are to imagine ourselves precious.
More time is needed if we are to dream of ourselves in Heaven.
More time is needed if we are to dance within her cleansed spirit.
More time is needed if we are to offer her our remaining reverence.

There is no more time to consider a belief built of lifeless straw.
There is no more time to trust in a faith without a loving beholden.
There is no more time to snicker away a laughter that’s self-seeking.
There is no more time to disregard worship being drained of all humanity.

Make time to hoist your Love to its original tallness.
Make time to haul up your waning goodness and joy.
Make time to elevate her riches that your eyes might see.
Make time to lift the spirits that dance to her tender rhythms.

More time is needed…

It is time to believe in something.

It is time to speak peace instead of the loudness of bombs.

It is time to feed the hungry with our spleens filled with hope.

It is time to bring nourishment to this, our deadened worship.

It is time to laugh while we’ve reason to be overflowing with joy.

It is time to cry while we’re flooded with a self-inflicted sorrow.

It is time…

I died last night. I had to.

I danced with the darkest of spirits. It was less a conversation and more of a warning: Forget.

I died last night. I had to.

I made it clear to the shadows dancing near that I was coming back. I told them they could not destroy Love, or me.

I died last night. I had to.

This morning, I returned with a mind-shattering shriek, a molten purpose unlike any other I’ve ever dreamed! She told me things that I've only sensed along the path. Love is our one beholden, our sacred vow, our breath.

I died last night. I had to.

I heard the warning. But I shall not forget! I shall remember! Love is not to be forgotten because of death, Love is to be remembered because we live. If saying that makes me crazy, then I’m happy to oblige. If believing so makes me seem unbalanced, then I’ll tumble with glee! If my belief sounds insane, then lock me away now that truth might be safe.

I loved last night. I had to.

I will prove myself a hypocrite if I do not exhale these words written inside of me. They are written in all of humankind. Etched inside of all living things is a message to be remembered, a simple prayer worth repeating- Love.

(Occupy The World from Give No Ground)


Occupy the streets that she might recognize your spirit in motion, that she might observe your observance with dry eyes bent in hope.

Occupy her Love that she might be the perfume for your journey, the beauty in your voice trumpeting with the solitary seed.

Occupy her mountains, rivers and streams, her forests, her prairies and her dreams, love that she might witness us in infinity.

Occupy the world that she might know of your grief, your cry to the heavens, your eyes upon the beholder’s breathing proximity.

Occupy her tall affections that she might experience your relief, carry on creation’s ballet that turns freely beneath your feet.

Occupy her communion so Love senses your kind’s kinship surging to the floor, your joyful tap, tap, tapping atop her weeping loam.

Occupy her, but first know your darkest dreams, know your glorious truth, know your duty, know your prayers, know yourself.

Occupy your one truth, your solitary awareness, that she and thee might know your will and light your way across her eternal seas.

Occupy the world that she might know of your regret before she knows of your tearful worship curved in supplication across her bosom.

Occupy the world that she might sense your sorrow, but only after you’ve lifted your prayers in breath to breathe your belated lament.

Occupy her ground that she might witness your grief, hear your humble tongue wag its love in this, your annunciation of truth.

If in the beginning was creation- the planets to mesmerize, the stars to gaze with wonder, the sun to breathe in time and hover Love’s most bright, then the moon, which hovers the night to light the way for man, has had eons of glory to begin its inward flutter, toward our silence, toward our joy, toward our laughter. Flutter...

For creation to remain, she must cleanse herself of man’s pathetic use and stave off our attempted murder.


(After the one truth sprang forth in its Milky Way swimming in Love’s DNA round and round, both began to grow down, down, down into Love’s thighs, down into the light turned water, into the dark turned sky.)

Are there more things for us to have known, for us to have imagined? Have we left anything soiled, defiled, that’s not to creation’s liking?

I pray you forgive me now, before your unbelievable wrath is summoned from the core of your sorrow. Shall we fair better after the deed is done or will we die from utter shock at seeing we were wrong? We received so much more of Love than we gave, or bargained for?

Eternal guide, lead me on that I may be near your bosom more, that I may hear the wondrous symphony calling across your canyon floors like a violin’s echo darting behind the dark. You fail Love, and you’ll part ways with her loving Love paired, her righteous skin producing such wondrous fares.

Her oceans wait for the next flood of death, the next mortal king to wave his crown and try to bring Love crashing down. To wash away our fear, we’ll need Love to explain how on eartH the sons and daughters of creation missed the truth for so long, how he crawled upon her, walked upon her, drove upon her, then flew above her majesty and spat upon her face.

See the coming misfortune, the fatal flaw in human nature? Pry the “s” out of insanity and you’ve want of the rest. Will we realize soon enough, we’re the cause of our own demise, as we’ve tried to strafe life from out of Love and Love from out of life?

Oh Love, help us, we’ve little left to offer, with abundance yet to be given. Keep your hands free of her spirit, now move yours away from the core, back away slowly, bend upon your knees and clasp your complicit paws together to realize you know nothing, you are nothing, that nothing of yours compares and that she implores you to breathe all remaining Love into creation’s heart forevermore?

This magnificent eartH in all of her glory, and at the center of it all, a clarinet whimpers her grief into the air, a tambourine jangles its painless joy over the water, spoons rattle their rigid clip above her eartHenware bowl… and a guitar string pounds out Love’s beat within this, the Mother’s and Grandmother’s and Great Grandmother's eternal note.

Yes! It is Love that’s arranging its song into a masterpiece. Like the wind and its song, the wolf and its air, the bird and its call, Love summons us to duty, prays we begin anew, bowed and broken, hauling Love up the mountain instead of death, carting her to her peak, to Love swimming deep and running out of air!

To speak, she ascends her surface to say, if you bring your brother to belief, you’ll bring the world.

(Swim, little minnow, break free from your looming death.)

Another spirit, I was graced to meet was at a bar called Maxine’s, looked like the earth, rugged and free, a bit careworn, yet liberated, a bit rough around the edges, yet a beautiful force. We, our spirits, began to dance to the instruments found turning in our souls.

So what if he smiled less than I, he’d been to places I’ve dared not go. I’m nothing to he, to me, in my presence, Love. The thing is, it mattered not who was who or what we both knew, it was a shared glee, an ecstatic affection dancing between us. Our hearts were equally shown, warmth evident in our forgiveness of one another, of our animal blood, our eternal kinship and Love.

The man who gave me his spirit, his truth that I might dance with, that he and I might share our story with everyone, may Love bless you, my friend in the shadows.

A young man came to me today. It wasn’t until he came knocking at my door that I caught a slow, boiling glimpse of a truth unfolding before me. It came as if destiny were unraveling like a woman’s curves in the wind, as if laughter were unfolding like a child tumbling in glee, nearest our inherent joy, Love.

His caramel eyes mesmerized at our dance, speechless at our kinship, motionless at our speech flowing from inside to out, to the other, bowing as equals in heaven.

Oh! I said! I am so thankful you dropped by, so glad we breathed of goodness come calling, dancing spirits, two, growing faiths, two, and the next, and the next, until belief joins hands and begins to move as one- one truth, one entity, one thing, one mind. One.

After eating some spaghetti, he cleaned up his place and entered to dance once again before he ventured on. To my delight, we expressed Love for one another, and then he vanished into the liquid pavement.

Creation works in mysterious ways.

I received this next paragraph in a comment from the previous post, Unexpected Howl. It was from Anonymous:

Tried but not saying a word. I can't do it. I know I yell and things, but it's only when I'm frustrated with myself, not you. I've never been afraid, well sometimes to tell you something because I felt you should know naturally. I am aware that I disappointed myself again by waiting and postponing this trip. Truthfully I really had no power over not going there and trying to find relief. I know it just lingers and makes everything worse. I am not at all comfortable with the way you are expressing things. Today, yes I understand, but I have to explain the way I feel, it's so hard to put into words, but I want to.

I responded:

Anonymous, I'm not sure who this is and I'm not sure how I know you, yet it matters not, you're a brother or sister reaching out to another. I feel there may be something hidden in your words, yet seen, if viewed through the lens of spirit.

Please, my friend, speak your mind...

A dream that now I speak:

And now, Anonymous, I know who you are, and it pleases me to say so. You are me and I am you, we are one another. The way I express things is simply things I've found along my way to you. I often-times have stumbled, but my path and promise are one in the same, they both begin with Love and are eternally my truth.

We're merely a part of life not an image of who we were or an image of who we've become. We are who and what we are. Instead of angels, instead of stewards to heaven, we are ungrateful thinking beasts, the last of those to imagine we've the right to dictate who or what Love is, or to conjure the when and the how of creation's end, what creation wants, what Love needs, creation's plan for us. Shame on us for the way we've defiled her gift of life, the only eternity we actually know. Belief is all I harbor, all any of us reap.

I just figured it was time to begin, rinse and repeat...

Peace, Love and goodness to all and everything.

To Love, to eartH, to those with Love and to those with sin, and those with money and those without one cent, to the eartH we're planted and to the eartH we're granted, beholden stewards to the gift of life, to the eternal kingdom of Love.

Give your heart to Love before Heaven begins to roar! Give yourself over to all that is lit by the sun, enthralled by the moon, comforted by the stars, the cosmos, to all and everything that’s within the carriage of creation- you, me, they, them, we, Love, truth, beauty, natural art and peace. Below and above, inside and out. Inside, whirling along the pathway of goodness. Outside, a reflection of nothing but Love. Love, in line to be the successor, the heir to Heaven.

They tiptoed into my sleep wearing dusty clothes and no shoes. They tried to not let me hear them, but the little girl put forth a giggle and the boy laughed, too, soon the whole room teetered in merriment. A while passed and a hush fell all around us, a silent prayer, save for the short breaths of the children, petite puffs in search of a throat.

There were nearly twenty in the group. They had been searching for years, but were always met with sideways glances and, oftentimes, violence. They smelled like sand. They were gentle. I sensed they’d come for my help, but, short of giving them water, I knew not what I could do. I wept at the looks on their faces, the pain, the anguish, the truth.

The little boy began to cry, followed soon after by the little girl, then we all began to weep. Our crying grew into an unexpected howl, a sorrowful choir of wingless angels.

Our hymn shattered the floor of Heaven and a great anointing of water fell down upon us all...

Play from the Heart!

What's the point of anything if we don't? Play from the Heart! What’s to stop us from staying in the middle while hate’s tangled up in a half-baked peace and love’s tapping out some half-hearted beat?

Play from the Heart!

Love’s not a liquid flowing between unreachable worlds- It’s now! It’s the curve of her neck as she turns to gaze at her children. Play from the Heart! It’s the teetering laughter heard over the howl of thankless men.

Play from the Heart!

We make Love useless if it only moan’s like a lamb- It’s loud! Play from the heart! It’s the whispered roar of goodnight as a father watches them sleep. Play from the Heart! It’s the fearless torrent of immeasurable expressions of grief, it’s not war… it’s peace.

Nothing at hand is foretold, it’s waiting to be chosen. Everything’s upon two paths, one is the pathway of indifference, the other’s the passageway of Love.

Within this, our heartrending time, the stars crawl on hands and knees from end to end, inching toward the sun of man. This arrangement of emptiness, mouths silent consonants in search of vowels to fill empty words the size of the ocean. The angels scour the floor of our living, touching their wings against the oily waters, their silence louder than tyranny and beckoning our decision.

It will be at the liquid birth of creation that the reverberations of our collective choices spring forth. Let us pray they seep across a new and loving humanity.

How could we have allowed Love to be forgotten? What happened to our affections and happiness? Is Love not worth the struggle required to wrestle it back from hate’s grasp?

We can look at a thing until we begin to see what isn’t there, or we can begin to see a thing until we’re truly memorizing what exists. Evolve our thinking to include all of the goodness within every belief, within every philosophy, within every Loving thought, then progress with a vision honed in on Love and our perceptions cannot help but be enlightened. Do not focus on fears, they’re nothing more than the least of who we’ve become.

To rescue humanity, before Mother, Grandmother and Great Grandmother settle the debt, we must soar with truth in our sights and keep flying until we begin to recognize the ancient and familiar song born in each of us, in all things, the song of Love.

Pray we remember.

The cedar moth, whose pink luster wings summon their rise in preparation to fly, remains as I pass by its perch. What I must be to the moth, these small creatures that hold the night like guardians of Love, that flutter, not in some alien form of desperation, but alive within their only Home?

Is not fulfillment key to the one truth? Shouldn’t we be living within realization’s trough, instead of imagining other reasons outside of our sphere, beyond our touch, beyond our egos, beyond our pride, beyond what is knowable?

Rise up into the truth of where we live.

Rise up into the truth of who we are.

Rise up into the truth of what we are.

Rise up cedar moth, let us join you in creation’s eternal dance…

If I will cease to fear Love’s natural rhythm, I can allow my spirit to soar.

If I will bring my trembling knees to carry me, I can arrive at a place called Love.

If I will close my fearful mouth when flying, my flight can ascend my dreams.

If my flight ascends the unfound stars, I’ll dance with the spirits evermore.

Imagine Love! Dream Love! Hope Love! Pray Love! Beseech Love!

Come, Love! I’m in need of a dance, that I might not stumble in absence.

Come, Love! Allow me one hand, that I may lead, the other, that I may follow.

Peace and living goodness be with the messenger’s of Love…

I entered the church with head held high. I smiled and thought of what I’d become when my final curtain had fallen.

Fill the glasses with wine, smile the kindest of kind, and find yourself right where you never imagined you’d arrive.

There you Love the journey, knowing that, in the end, you’ll bend in the night and dream of your escape from Love.

Was Jesus divine? Yes, as we all are.

We are all equals, unable to be otherwise.

I cannot rise higher than another is capable of rising and I cannot sink further than they're capable of sinking.

Equality is key, which is the reason that I choose to dance with all spirits, all belief systems that I can.

I want to dance with all religions, colors, creeds, thoughts, philosophy, etc, for it is what I’m required to do, what I promised I'd do, in order to create/evolve within belief, not away from it, but with it.

Is there more to this than meets the eye? Yes. But only because I have forgotten who I am, what I was, and where I am. If I open my eyes to her, to Mother, Grandmother, Great Grandmother, to Love, I begin to heal from the inside out. Let me emerge from my slumber, with love within all I do and all I say.

It is time...

I believe Jesus was a human, no different than you and me. I believe Jesus uttered some very profound statements and truths, but perhaps should not have. He was, in my opinion, one of the finest human’s to have ever graced the earth, flawed, but a man who spoke his truth, not the worlds.

I believe that the eartH is Heaven. I’ve sought eternal life since the beginning of time and it’s been beneath my feet and will be evermore.

If I’ll but acknowledge that (possibility) I can cease my destruction of my only Home and the gift that is for all of life.

If I would but imagine for a second where I truly am, over where I want to be, I might then see the truth of where I’ve always been… with Love.

Russia Wants Lunar Lava Tube Real Estate
The last of humankind to escape earth came crawling out of their makeshift holes to question the destruction of all within their reach. Their eyes scanned the surface of a beleaguered moon emptied of spirit, save for death’s marauding phantoms.

The last of humankind came begging that Love again grant them their prayers, they pled with her to offer them one more chance at laughter’s reign, more time to make good on their promise to Love.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Answered she…

Mega-bucks flow from drug cos. to doctors
This particular pill is hard to swallow without sufficient water to push it past my panting and thunderstruck tongue.

A second opinion’s unneeded, as it only benefits the benefactors, and the side effects of the money game are proving the oath most disastrous... and beneficial.

Man with knife attacks Occupy N.M. protesters
Ending most occupations has been left to guns and bombs and warriors tapping out their master’s dance upon the sovereign soil, but this new method, a six to eight inch blade, understandably has little chance to end what is the duty only to be carried out by the will of the people.

There is a great sadness in those words... and within them lies a hope that’s also ours to end.

Where I am is all I can know, all I should know and all I need know. Who I am comes along with what I am to where I am. I must remember, recall my kinship before the act concludes. My dreams are the gauge to my knowing and my waking dreams deliver their sweet reverie to this reception with joy. And to my amazement truth has always been waiting beneath my feet for me to sense her Love, for me to awaken to my great fortune.

Awake! It is time to come together as one and occupy heaven with heart-signs that read Love, hands that hold her dear like I would hold the precious children, arms that reach out like machines of affection and legs in urgent motion toward her care.

Where did I imagine I was? Where do I imagine I am?

Who did I imagine myself to be? Who do I imagine myself to be?

What did I imagine I was here for, thievery, rape and war? What did I imagine I was here for?

Oh! The gravest fault lies in my lack of a loving imagination! The severest sin belongs to my thoughts that swim around as if their gods, spirits without the countenance of Love. The greatest tragedy now roars into its final act and is leaving me breathless with its indiscriminate death. I must awaken before the curtain falls and my monster rises to douse the light found waning upon the horizon of eternal Love.

If I choose to imagine otherwise, I’ll have forgone the only story worth repeating…

The sun remained still, it was I who crafted a path for spirit to flow outward, life to flow inward, remain, and hold fast her delicious concoction of dream.

Why have I taken up the dream and soured its indelible wish?

Who has given me permission to crash my fetid thoughts into Heaven?

What must I imagine it is for me to set her Love free that she might dance joyfully beneath the breathing sun?

When will my alarms finally awaken my child and send it out in search of my better self? Tomorrow? Tomorrow’s tomorrow? Tomorrow’s broken line of tomorrow’s, with my hands outstretched begging for another chance at tomorrow?

The line is bereft with my soiled smiles that haven’t given their joy over to themselves, I still hold the documentation of my enslavement, the shackles that cut into the skin of my hope are like steady reminders to rise with the sun and do the work of the thankless Man, capital “M” man, not the idleness of the diminutive, small “m” man.

No. The courage found in slavery is not visible until the whole brandishes the key to my singular prison, my filthy cell squatting nearest to the Hell designed by the capital M, to lock away the diminutive “m” that have forgotten who and where I am. If I chose, I could fly through the bars, break through the steel melded by fear and dipped in the coals of futility, but remember, I am weak. Yes. I am weak, because I actually believe I'm trapped, yet I alone hold my escape as least precious. So what if I show up in time for my own funeral, at least I took action and ran alongside Love in a race to the finish.

Let me evolve with truth nearest my goals.

Let me evolve with gladness within my heart.

Let me evolve with goodness piercing my steel ideas.

Let me evolve with Love riding ahead to clear my way.

Let me evolve with my affections holding the dear children.

Let me evolve with my stewardship held in the likeness of Love.

Let me evolve.

The water poured forth and the child was born. She summoned her spirit that she might sooth my heartache with the birth of Love.

I did dance for this news and she lapped at the shores with her gladness, her child having heard the call.

The wind began to dance along the valley. I did then begin to solemnly lift the spirits summoned by the tree's percussion, the mountain's thrum, the flower's weeping to the season’s air and the spectacular formation of spirit's dancing their Love without division to the warless symphony.

May she be a loving child…

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…

When the embers began to glow I joined in, motionless, I danced with another,
yet it was the spirit's collective dreams that brought me to the one.

I didn’t choose the path that carried me here today,
I couldn’t, I had no idea I’d show up to this ballet.

I just moved with the current of one, the spirit’s affections, their hope,
and with diverse belief, the where, of where I was destined, was not in my control.

I didn't try to steer the ship, there was no okay from me to go,
the opposite of being rudderless, because it’s precisely how this beautiful world flows.

Love, won’t you please take my hand, a peaceful hand which needn't extend from me alone?
My hands and arms are clasped, ready to dance this quest that is shaped from hope?

Yes! Hope is alive and well on these streets today! Oh! Dance dear spirit! Dance!
This moment must go on forever. I might stumble, but I shouldn’t fail this, my chance!

Freedom’s calling out to me within the child’s gaze, alongside my struggles, my dreams!
I only need take its beckoning hand that’s outstretched for me, to Love, if she please?

I can’t speak for anyone but myself and I can dance with another’s spirit and never know.
Laughter can rise with the sun or sink beneath the moon, I;m the one who chooses where it goes.

Let’s dance, Love! Let’s no more my grief descend, but lift my joy to rise within your thoughts.
Let’s dance and raise our spirits to flow within each other’s frame and remove all doubt.

Let’s dance together upon this, the foundation of humankind.
Let’s move in rhythm, my joy inside Love's mind.

Let’s dance and lift my grace to its original summit,
Move as one with peace, because hate just keeps me from it.

Life’s rhythm is mine to keep, but life’s song was written long before,
ahead of hunger and combat and peculiar things, like rich or poor.

Oh, Love! Won’t you take my hand and lift me up to this rhythmic ballet, this dance of one?
Join me upon the active streets and hold my hand before Love’s dance is done.

My particular dance never told me where or who,
yet to my heart’s delight, it led me straight to you.

There’s a rumble in the streets that sounds like distant thunder. Do not fear it, for it is a natural sound, not my kind’s fouled noise. It is Love, the triumph over self,  Love’s art bringing me back to my beginning. It is not a tale of woe and murder, it is a drama that’s been waiting in the wings for Love’s triumphant cue to summon me forth! It’s the thunder of Love rolling joyously across the globe.

I’ve listened to fear long enough. I’m tired of my weeping, exhausted of pulling out my hair and gnashing my teeth, exhausted of my dreams being written as tall tales instead of one great towering truth. I’ve begun to sense the reckoning within myself, the longing to remove the foul noise I’ve planted within which has pierced Love and turned me in on myself.

I’ll need steady hands and head to remove the clamor that’s lodged deep inside, that’s flouting my reason, that’s bringing me to fear another, causing me to destroy goodness, leaving me afraid of Love. I am one! I am not separate from life or Love, I am a part of life and I am being summoned to correct my Loveless morph, my degradation of the spirits that dwell within my kind's shells.

It will not be easy, but the reward lies in the knowledge that I’ve achieved my intended purpose. I’ve begun in earnest, let me continue the wave of peace and let me march onward toward the immense light that waits within me. Let me remember my failures and forgive myself of my transgressions, that I might then recall my kinship.

Love has begun to rise out of me, it must be considered most precious for it is required for the eartH's survival. Love cannot be divided or parsed at my bidding. Let me implement this fresh and imperative calling as if it were the solemn oath that I’ll never again break or allow to be spoiled by greed. Let my voice be heard! Let my Love be seen! Let the Heart(H) take the stage like never before!

I wept at her grace, smiled upon her face and have been humbled in my place.

The woman, Amelia, was once a child, a cherub who blossomed into an angel.

Her story is one that should be known to all who walk the path toward their belief, she’ll guide the ego away from self and reveal to you what truly matters. For me it is not the pliant flesh that reaches out with loving arms, it is the dance of the spirit. It is the love contained within me that moves the soul to sing, to dance and laugh inside the cathedral of man. I dance with her, dance with her spirit and I'm dancing with the love of all of the spirits that she has herself danced with. Dance! Laugh! Love, and I’ll find I’ve been blessed by creation.

Her strength is awe inspiring and without love she’d have left me to myself long ago. But I have begun to show her that my dreams are ready for her Love, ready for her truth to emerge within my being, to take my hands and lead me away from the battle within and usher in a loving peace over the noise of my kind's pointless warring.

Seek her out, go to her, but first... know myself, know my place in this, my rapid pace. Life calls to me and only asks that I see the angel, not the flesh. See the Love, not the hate. See the beauty from inside out, not the cruelty that swirls outside in. Open my arms to her, to the child, to the children who will soon grow from innocent cherubs into loving angels.

Amelia, the angel, has graced the world and me with her love since she was born. She is not alone among the loving children all. She has been selfless and joyful, whether in pain or in bliss, she calls to me with her silent song. That’s what angels do, they call to my better self, to who I am, not to what I’ve become.

It appears that I have begun to listen, I'm rising up to greet her in kind.

Let me make this, my new song, worth repeating.

All I see are desperate faces, eyes without dreams, minds without compassion and hands without Love, scraping their filth over creation. My own eyes are wet from this misuse. No consideration and without reflection, I've bowed my head, not in prayer, but with such monstrous shame.

I see this, my madness, as most tragic, the Love on which my flesh is riding is the only Heaven I know. I find it hard to stomach the cruelty being raked across creation with my own likeness being reflected. Wash it away! It’s too monstrous! Wash it all away from the thankless path!

The children are dreading the monster that comes from under their beds that have mommy and daddy’s terrified within their thankless faces. They sense hopeless postures when they look into the empty eyes come screaming, dead hands stroking their worried brows, greedy lips kissing their regret.

I see this madness as most tragic, the Love on which my flesh is riding is the only Heaven I know. I weep for all, but mostly for the children who witness Love being buried in the tombs of rage, beneath my kind’s ugliness, set to inherit such madness as if the heirs to agony.

Soon they’ll stare into such darkened eyes and see themselves scowling back at a foul inheritance, then I’ll know that it’s too late to salvage a waning Love. What then? What am I to do when the progeny of the loveless begin to drain all the remaining Love with such sharpened teeth?

There were splendors. The ocean navigated them nearer the plump breast of a new world. Our indigenous, greeting the sailor with smiles and immense warmness.

Peace, in this meeting of fleshes, soiled itself with chains of slavery and riches beyond the queen’s dreams. The land, and its worship, was sliced open like buffalo on a red plain.

Sky, the sky, the sky doesn’t dance anymore, not with spirit or truth. Of our scourge we eulogize the ghosts of death, of massacre, beyond the new machinery, our lives.

The Indian, the child, the meadow, the slaughter of stillness. Can’t take it back now! Can’t! It’s done! Musket, arrow, flesh, the birth of a country, drum...

Am I not capable of greatness if I’ll but still my tongue and use my limbs and spirits to vanquish the dreadful sword?

I tell myself to fear the unfamiliar faces that are found in my reflection.
I tell myself I’ve Love to spare while my fists come booming.

Do I really need another enemy when I’ve more adversaries than champions?

I tell myself I'm compassionate even as the unkindness goes on raging.
I tell myself I'm beautiful even as my ugliness disfigures the heart.

Can’t I imagine myself vanquished without having to dream up hideous foes draped in fear-stained flags?

I tell myself I'm most loving even as hatred’s dagger punctures my scowling lips.
I tell myself I'm peaceful even as war slathers blood across the land.

Aren't I sufficient enough with the tools of death to bring the blade across Love's neck with minimal suffering?

I must begin to tell myself I'm safe even as my own looming death’s unknown.
I must begin to tell myself that I’ve had enough of this; my dread.

Something hasn’t just been stolen and it is not merely "democracy", or some other word that means little to Love, that has the power to give it back...

My kind cannot steal Love; therefore Love has not been stolen. My kind's minds have been hijacked and holding the box-cutter to its own throat. My kind might choose to demolish the flesh and bone of children, but my kind cannot steal the Love that is born in them, it isn't for sale and it isn't for the taking. My kind can also choose to keep all of the things it has piled on top of the Love born inside of all living things and then scream about a love of some delusional freedom that has been and continues to be offered to only some of my kind some of the time, but not all of my kind all of the time.

It has been a very long time in coming, this idea of freedom, this delusion of liberation from the shackles of fear, and it has arrived without my kind! My kind is allowing fear to conquer the will. It has arrived before my kind has given itself over to Love, the only thing that will save my kind from itself, from ideas, from thoughts, from ego. Love, which is free, arrived long before my kind had thought, long before my kind decided to try and own her, long before my kind decided it was its to conquer. The thought is not enough, the signs are not enough, the marches are not enough if my kind cannot see beyond its own desires, its own inability to change, its own failure, its own sightlessness when arguing for or against its own inept words, its own hopeless verdicts and its own clumsy and corrupted ideas of forgiveness.

If my kind chooses to love what it loves, it's missing out on the rest of Love. Love isn't divisible. Love is its own. It is all. Love is Love and it never changes. It is my kind who changed. Changed to fit its self-interests despite its braying to the contrary. My kind can either choose to stop this idea that any one of it knows more than the next or it can wholly fail.

If my kinds words are to reflect Love then it must come from Love which knows no sides, no philosophy, no religion, no race, color or creed! Let my kind imagine itself bringing nothing to the table but Love! Love must rule any movement in order to move the world; the 100%...

I’m having a wide-eyed dream… As the weeping willow touches its breathing greenness across her Love, the earlier people dance upon her sacred altar. Barefoot and wearing feathers in worship, they’re held away from cruelty as only Mother, Grandmother and Great Grandmother’s arms can rally, and with open mouths they inhale and exhale her fresh air found breathing through them. They remain silent, save for her Love pursed upon their blissful lips as they pray and their arms invite her love in with an assured pace found only in the recognition of a kinship to all of existence. As they meditate, their minds open wide to kiss her waiting lips and greet her freedom with a breathing peace! They love before they wake. They continue to love ever after their eyes salute her open sky! They never cease to dream the dream in the dream of the dream of dreams.

And their children dance and play alongside them. They know that the child is more familiar with Love. They realize that the struggle of life may soon seep into the child and begin to mask their inherent Love, so they tell them to hold it, to cherish it as if it were a butterfly, to gently gaze upon it without fear or the regret of having loved, for it cannot be extinguished by the fiercest wind. It cannot be devoured by the most ferocious of beasts whose teeth seek to rend the flesh because they know not of Love’s eternal essence. Fear not, the spirits say, for fear is nothing more than the failure to recognize Love as the original and everlasting creation.

Let me join their dance! Let me raise my arms and move over Love's sacred ground, hands open and free, in fists only when beating the drums of peace! Let me stay my arms outstretched like a valley and summon everyone and everything to enter her affections! Let me go in like a wide-eyed child, innocent, humble, tender, and with a smiling mind that’s most ready to dance!

Oh! Pray I commune today, not tomorrow! If not today, then tomorrow! If not tomorrow, then soon! I am obliged to join hands! I am required to carry on the sacred journey whose feet began to step long before my kind’s word, long before its thought with its shadows brought my kind to quivering! I must love long before noise lifts its crow to the heavens and sends my child away... Smile upon her wide-eyed dream! Bring wet lips to her call! Let me carry innocence to her wedding with me that she might know of my intent to return her Love with gladness!

Yes! Now! Now love! Now! Let me never cease to dream the dream in the dream of the dream of dreams.

Now love! Not tomorrow, she’s been waiting too long for me!

Now love! Not tomorrow, she’s been holding out too long for my wide-eyed confession!

Now love! Not tomorrow, she’s been waiting too long for my eyes to move beyond the backdrop of self and into the landscape of eternity…

They speak to me with broken tongues, with eyes shining as bright as the sun. They look into my eyes for something hidden within me, yet known within themselves, like a cool hand on a fevered brow or a loving caress next to sleep.

I want to ask them who I am, but I’ve already been told it’s something I needn't see, the answers to that which I cannot know. Still, I call to them in my dreams and dance alongside their swaying hips. I hold them dear so they might soon share their Love with the new world.

They look as if they’ve known me forever, with eyes swimming to the same rhythm as my dreams, with the same gaze of the angels that hover next to me long after I’ve opened my eyes. Their skins shimmer under the morning sun as their wide and beautiful smiles beam a signal, an ivory banner of “Welcome Home!” They summon me into an unknown truth like the fate that writhes in the mind of a jumper, the heart safely tucked away beneath a daring love.

I will hold my fears at bay. I will take their offerings, that they might eagerly lead me along paradise road into the waiting arms of creation. I love them as if they’re children, as if their gleaming stories are most sacred and their fate is equal to mine.

Occupy them in revolution, but remember what it is to love, so that what remains reflects goodness and not sorrow.

Occupy the streets with peace and love and I will have made more of a difference, not only for today, but for untold tomorrows.

It is one thing to die and leave behind a legacy, it is quite another to live beyond my casualty that others might paint the future with my radiant death.

It is one thing to speak my mind while I'm living, it is quite another to have perished without ever having recognized the courage found in my breath.

When I arrived I was just beams assembled from who I was, when I parted ways I was a bridge constructed of who I had become.

It is Love, spoke the child.

No. You can’t love someone like that yet, you’re a child, said the adult.

It is Love, spoke the child.

No. It’s not love until you’re old enough to know what it really is, said the adult.

It is Love, spoke the child.

No. Love is a tricky thing, be careful or you’ll get hurt, said the adult.

It is Love, spoke the child.

No. I thought the same when I was your age, but it’s not, said the adult.

It is Love, spoke the child.

No. You can’t know Love until you’re older, until you’ve lived, said the adult.

It is Love, spoke the child.

No. Love doesn’t happen that way, it’s much harder, said the adult.

It is Love, spoke the child.

No. It isn’t. That’s just puppy love, not real Love, said the adult.

It is Love, spoke the child.

No. It is not Love between young kids, it hasn’t had time enough to blossom, said the adult.

You’ve grown too bitter, too harsh in your affectionate weather. You’ve grown too cold in your vow with love, too cruel in your thoughts. You’ve grown too Loveless. It is you that has forgotten. It is not impermanent. It is inside of you, inside of all, born in all of creation, all life. It is not yours to fell like a tree. It is Love. Love is Love. Love is free. It is permanent. Love is breathing. Love is everything, all of life, spoke the child.