CONFESSION ZERO

This is not Armageddon. This is Heaven returning to our consciousness… Creation, Love. She, with her gravity, is like a mother’s arms around a wayward child, and, if she must, she’ll sling her wrath when they become murderers. Her wake-up call, long overdue, fell upon them, silence. Fell upon them, silence. Fell upon them… She pleads we reconsider. She prays we unlock the gateway from ourselves back to Love. Sight is to behold like behold is to see. © 2011 by mark prime

Where we are is all we can know, all we should know and all we need know. Who we are comes along with what we are to where we are. We must remember, recall our kinship before the act concludes. Our dreams are the gauge to our knowing and our waking dreams deliver their sweet reverie to this reception with joy. And to our amazement truth has always been waiting beneath our feet for us to sense her Love, for us to awaken to our great fortune. Awake! It is time to come together as one and occupy the eartH, Home and Heaven, with heart-signs that read Love, hands that hold her dear like we hold our precious children, arms that reach out like machines of affection and legs in urgent motion toward her care. Where did we imagine we were? Where do we imagine we are? Who did we imagine ourselves to be? Who do we imagine ourselves to be? What did we imagine we were here for, thievery, rape and war? What do we imagine we are here for? Oh! The gravest fault lies in our lack of loving ima