CONFESSION ZERO

There’s derision in the snow that’s set to come, melancholy in the rain. Oh! Won’t you feed your giant and topple him from within? The next begins in twenty years, after this one finds its end. Without belief in eternity where we stand, she can’t, she won’t contain her children gone insane, mad from horror they've made themselves, but it will not be eternal, of that she makes known. Hell, she says, is the last thing that is Love! Creation is Love. The Creator is Love. The Mother is Love. The Grandmother is Love. The Great Grandmother is Love. You too, are Love. Come! Won’t you dance for such Love? Come! Dance with me, dance as one, that I might find the voice to spirit which speaks of you so well. Shush. Shush now child. Do not weep for your doing, weep for what you’ve done and weep for what needs be undone beneath the blazing sun... I will come to you in a day, I will ask you if you think she’s pretty, I’ll ask you if she’s despoiled in any way, this, mere mortal man, I say...

( Peace Revolution Podcast  -|- Trickle-Down Poverty ) Trickle-down tyranny trumps the sweet and natural hum, the wind and howl, the air and breath slain by boom, rattle and thump! Come and sit beneath the stars and heed the whisper of all, bring your power in numbers to a fresh and vital call. No more can we linger, no more can we remain, while they hone the sword of tyranny and plunge it through our veins! No more can we hold our speech, no more can we wait for death to rear its head from waste surging hard beneath! Come and sit under the stars and talk of things that matter, come camp with your brethren and bravely hold back the clatter. The landscape, it is shifting, turning red and orange, calling on us to embrace her loving wind and begin to be the change. If we fail her now, we’ll lower our Love to her crypt to never rise again, she’ll breathe away our memory and once more begin. Come! Sit beneath the stars and watch the shadows glance, move with the wind...