Facebook @ Mark R. Prime
Love, peace and goodness to you, yours and the (H)eartH...
This is the belief I chose. What of my Love? Might it soar like the awe found in the first moment of recognizing where you are? Might it urge we feed our brethren? Might it urge that we end all wars, all murder, suicide and greed? Might it take away our blindness that we see the hell of humankind and realize our gravest sin?
Where was I?
The sin of humankind is greed. The gravest, our inability to fully Love. Love’s acknowledgement for our loveless veins! We can only tread so long, until the cab bends with the wind and the rain and the grave sorrow of the tree.
That’s where you were?
No. I was not there, yet I know of its eternity. I have flown with the angels. I have fused my words with the sweet sound of Love, a belief emerged from under her grasp! I writhe, in heaven, evermore…
I saw myself fall pray to my own belief. It struck me when I least expected it, it’s danced inside of me forever. In all of us lives this other frame, a spirit that dwells in all of us, connected with the truth of where we are. Animal.
This is heaven. If I have a doctrine let it only contain those three words, this is heaven. Memory is what we need. Remembrance will serve her dance with all in the end. Love in belief and belief in Love. Anything else is irrelevant. Belief had better come prepared to face the truth, to rise away from our imaginations long enough to remember where we are.
Where do you long to be?
Beside my Love.
I’m getting sick. I feel the darkness swill my mind in righteous colors! My sweat and chills breed quivers of my stomach.
I’m not supposed to be writing tonight, I’m supposed to be dancing with my Love…
Peace, Love and goodness be with you all…
The wind blows its cold through the dark and the willow tree kicks her arms and summons me to dream my belief to the pleasure of Love.
On bent knee I cry out into the darkness. Nothing.
I beseech the wind to forgive me. Nothing.
I plead with the soil to allow me another chance to serve Love. Tremble, drum, string, wind, breathing love throughout heaven…
She calls to me, she yearns for my touch, my Love to come sliding from my confident hands, drip from my every breath, from my deeds.
None shall be in Heaven until they realize where they are.
I’m telling you these words are not mine own. They are of me but so are you and you and you and you and all and everything. Bring the cymbal crashing to heighten the suffering that needn’t ever have been. The scribe: I have been called to speak the next. Oh, Bach lift me out of this hell of my making!
Bring Love home. On your tongues and in your hearts bring Love home. In your belief and in your humbleness, in your walk, in your word, in your actions, in all you do, bring Love home…
Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love.
Never cease your memory of what you know, cease the recollection, hold dear the truth. Though you may not know where you are does not leave you blameless for your own fate. Hell is not an easy place to emerge from, but if there’s another species on this planet that can think of a way to save us from spending eternity as having been for nothing and into such nothingness we shall slip, darkness, eternal sleep, not even a whisper, if we do not open our eyes to Love’s fleshy eartH, Creation’s Love, humankind…
I’m telling you these are not my words. They travel through my hands to my keyboard and then to you. Oh! I cannot stop! Even if Creation asked me to it wouldn’t hold my tongue of what I believe urging me to speak, to write, to dance with spirit, to Love, and I am freefalling through the thinning air (at any altitude). I am moving with Love’s hands. She directs me through my dream, she speaks to me through spirit, she moves beyond the rush of indecency, she rises above our noise, she rises beyond our gaze, beyond our imaginations, does the eartH of Love…
Love. Love is all we’ve left that we can do that we haven’t tried before.
Could it be that simple, asked the quivering strings?
Oh Dear Sebastian, play me a heavenly tune with Yo Yo Ma on your strings, with water flowing clear, trees standing for justice, mountains there to remind us of how small we are… nearing insignificance. And we think we‘ve the nerve to speak for
Love? What on eartH made us think such a thing? Money. Greed. Rage. Loathing. Destruction of life. Sightless all, their eyes need open…
Let us rise up and speak! Speak for Love’s sake! Speak what we will of our belief, but it must come after we serve the kingdom of Love. If we realize where we are, my brothers and sisters, we can have it evermore…
You’re strumming at my Heart. You’re filling me with Love on the strings of your walk to peace, to Love’s most precious truth, the Heart(H) of
Love. The cello of full Love, the song of hope, the words of such a profound meaning that we are knelt in sorrow before
Love. Oh! Raise up your spirits! Do not wait for a sign, a prophecy to raise its music ahead of our terror.
The truth isn’t convenient to humankind’s imaginings, Love isn’t as profitable as fear. We with our wars! For what? No! Why war? Why do you poison the water that was granted by Love? Why do you plague Love with fear? Fear is humankind’s greatest flaw. The mind settles for bigotry over reason, for fear before Love and for Love over the Heart(H) of Love…
The midnight sky behind the stars went on forever, an eternal dream of mine, my never-ending reverie, my trance of evermore, my dance with destiny. More our dance, yours and mine, mine and yours, with a most willing spirit, the breath of Love.
The one star looking back at me brought me to wonder, might we live forever with death becoming a new life to relive again and again and again until our beliefs center around the things we know?
The eartH of Love calls out with creation’s thrumming Heart, begging we give up our belief and bring our eyes down opened wide and begin to feverishly pray we’ve still time to end our attempted murder of Life, restore the life we’ve drained from Love‘s precious eartH, return the Love we’ve claimed in blood. The tragedy’s a manifest destiny woven of fear eternal instead of Love’s echo, her never-ending return to Love held in the spirit’s hands that tell us life will come again and again and again and again and again and you will be exactly where your belief takes you, good and bad.
Wouldn’t a loving peace and a peaceful Love serve Love? Wouldn’t our search for kings and miracles be better served if we looked beneath our feet, to the home upon which all of breath breathes, all of Love's Loves and all of life lives and dies until…
We believe that all we know is all there is to know. Might there be more? Where we are. Who we are. What we are. Let’s turn our sights to that which gives without asking for anything in return, to that which is life’s sustenance, its beholden, the mother, the HeartH of Love, the eartH. Remember this, we stewards of Love and home.
What good will belief be when our beholden begins to heal? We must begin to realize where we are before The Mother sways her hips and split’s the dance floor with her quake, before The Father strikes his radiance across our flesh and reveals the bloodletting of the sacred spirit, before the train whistle goes unnoted and our thankless existence gets erased from the songbook of Love.
The door to love stands open. Wait. Happiness is the will of Love, it does not include any meaning of death. The door to love stands open. Wait. Happiness is the will of Love, it does not include any meaning of death, save for our own preconceived imaginative notions of a Love that can create this eartH, this sun, this moon, this atmosphere, this universe and humankind, Love, laughter, trees, eagles, dogs, cats, the moon, the sun, the stars, the darkness, the light, and even death which gives rebirth over and over and over and over until death has no meaning, and we strip it of nutrients and poison her water and its air, trees, soil and Love and all the while humankind imagining themselves as the writers of the words of Love…
No. My friends, we are all the children of Love, bar none. We are all beholden to the eartH, some call it the original gift to man, but I say it is so much older than that, it is as old as Love, as old and true as Life eternal, beneath our feet, and anyone that can know that, is Love. There is no room for death. Love, is of everything. Love is everything. He is not a he and she is not a she, those are human labels, a limited scope of where we are.
Our beliefs are settling an old score that’s long outlasted knowledge, that’s using our dreams against us. Our belief is secondary to where we are. Animals first, spirit, second. We must know and remember where we are before we lose sight of who we are. (Why couldn’t we serve the eartH as our beholden?) We, instead, had to go and put words in Love’s mouth, assuming that Love has a mouth. We had to go and play Love instead of recognizing the fundamental nature of Love, humbleness. If we had just realized her potential at remembering where she is and compared that with our realization of where we are, we might have seen the truth most near.
Love, Everything, Life... of which death is not an end, but merely a beginning, has no expiration date, doesn’t go bad, and has the flow of Love, an imperfect perfection, the most mind-boggling work of art that man has ever seen or could ever fathom, let alone master, or should I say be master of. We cannot be the masters, not if we’re the stewards of Love…
We have forgotten who we are!
We have forgotten what we are!
We have forgotten where we are!
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.
Where will I go when my belief reveals my fears? Might I ask Love what creation needs of me? What if I'm unable to give it, unable to be both, steward to Love and loving steward? If I say that I Love, then Love must seep through all of my actions, great or small.
I say I Love, I show I Love. Simple enough.
I am Love, Love for all of life, a welcome duty, difficult only when fear deals the cards, yet a pleasure when Love holds a full house. Trust is Love and Love is trust and both need the other to breathe.
Love will be pleased that I’ve begun to Love fully. The miracle begins with opening my eyes to truth. To what I know. Heaven's revealed to me if I’ll but begin to breathe only Love. I am Love, steward to the eartH, which is, I believe, the Heart(H) of creation. I don’t know if it is true, but I believe it to beyond doubt. No different than any man or woman speaking what they believe to be Truth.
Man and woman, male and female, a part of life, animal, if you will, could be here for any number of reasons, the greatest of which is Love. It is not mine to know why, it is mine to remember who, what, and where I am. If Love is the eartH and the eartH is Love, does it not stand to reason that my greatest duty is to Love? I needn't anyone to teach me that. Love all others, Love all of life, Love the mother eartH that she might eternally create life long after I've passed. Future life can only come again from Love. Who knows if upon my death there is not more to be revealed in the spirit or again in the flesh? I don’t know, but I believe it. A lesson I learned through prayer. The spirit has revealed to me, that, in the end, I am a steward of an eternal Heart(H). The eartH, paradise, Heaven and Home, either way, when the curtain falls, I'll have to face the things I've failed to do and the things I've allowed to flourish. I’ll face the Love I've shown for life... the water, the air, the breathing soil, the beast, and humankind.
What on eartH made me think otherwise?
Oh seek you another victim! The eartH and Love have had enough of human blindness. They’ve held off long enough. No. There’s no need to hide. She is not angry. She is sad. Do not allow indifference to float tears and drown Love beneath the rising truth.
Why? Why make a game of Love?
There’s little need to weep, Love. Love sees the suffering at humankind's hand, fingers pulling triggers instead of offering Love. Love sees. Love hears. Love feels. Love knows.
Are you coming to bed? …Yes. Yes, my Love.
Oh seek another! The eartH and Love have had enough of human blindness. They've held off long enough! They've wept an eternity of Love! Enough! Let humankind, man and woman, construct a Love worthy of full Love. Clasp our hands in supplication, bent upon the breathing soil, beg forgiveness from whatever is believed and begin in earnest the eartH’s salvation.
Are you coming to bed? …Yes. Just one more minute of prayer, my Love.
And you Mother, Grandmother, Great Grandmother, I give back your Love. I return it that you might send it to another more in need. I breathe my Love into your gasping lungs, I give it all back, save enough to keep me from falling headlong into agony.
Now is agony. Now is the agony of our making. Tomorrow must be peace. Tomorrow must be Love. Mustn’t it? Are we not held accountable for our actions?
“None shall get to Heaven by deeds alone.”
“The eartH is Love's and everything in it.”
Our actions speak so much louder than our sorry excuse for Love, for worship. We can’t hear our own gnashing teeth or feel our bleeding scalps, the agony between man and Love is too great.
Why couldn’t you have just said so, instead of sending spirit to dance their way through me. It had been too long between dances, I was exhausted? I’m standing here now with my numbness that swims with Bach rising kindly in my veins, that rumbles my name, I bow. My sorrow brims with fear, my fears brim with sorrow.
Love must be recognized for her dominion over us. Our joy must wed with our deeds. We, my brothers and sisters, are beholden to the eartH, in other words, to Love.
Allow her a bit more breath to enter her waters instead of murder/suicide and poisonous hunger! Greed through war and war through greed, we saunter around planting our mindless seeds for plunder. And though we laugh, we are not happy. None of us can imagine our home, our only home, as being hell…
If we take a closer look we’ll see that the tide’s begun to shift, there’s an awakening underway and it’s unstoppable.
It is Love and Love shall never die. Love cannot be vanquished by all of man’s sadness. It cannot be slain by our insidious power. She cannot be murdered, it is we that have murder rapping at our door, tapping out a metronome of death’s steady pace, death, death, death, death, death, the other side of life…
There’s something wrong with me…
I felt my old self rise up. Hadn’t seen him in a long time. He looked sad or maybe he was just disappointed in how things were going.
There’s something wrong with me…
Look at what I’ve helped commit? Attempted murder. The willful destruction of heaven. Me, along with my brothers and sisters, we’re all guilty.
We tragically closed our minds long before we closed our eyes.
Man vs. the attempted murder of eartH, Heaven- Jury, how do you find?
Plead insanity! Don’t be a fool! Just tell them you’re crazy!
There’s something wrong with me…
Dig me up. Dig me up and I’ll Love you forever. Dig us all up! Let us tell the water and trees and mountains that we Love them! Inform the world that you Love! Allow Love to witness our undying Love to creation’s Heaven, our Home!
You can’t just expect me to walk away. Chained spirits, when set free, return to their host. Unchain the spirits that dwell in you and you’ll find yours soaring. You’ll know the truth when it swims in you, the long forgotten realization of where you are, and with it, realize your gravest sin against Love.
I kept forgetting, couldn’t hear you from there. I couldn’t make out your words, save one.
I remember you. I recall your dizzying pace and how you urgently pulled me into your maze, how you held me close when I was frightened and told me that everything’s going to be okay. I’m alive. I’ve come full circle in life’s rotation, from birth to awareness, from awareness to stewardship, from servitude to Love.
I remember you. I heard you calling to my newborn spirit to remember who I am and to hold you most dear, to look to you to remind me of who I am and what my mind should sow and what it should reap.
There was one star in the midnight sky. It vaguely winked at me as if it were distracted by other things, chaos, wars, murder, greed. I think the heaven’s lookout, this singular star that kept watch through the foggy clouds, appeared to drift closer, a sentry pacing my night. The blessed sentry, the HeartH, Life, Love and Truth, Heaven and Home for all of our nights, seen or unseen.
It’s time, they said. It’s time to begin, time to set your beliefs aside and come together in commonality, together with Love! You must cleanse this world of manmade poisons and begin to care for Love's shores, her oceans, her forests and sacred lands before her patience snaps in two and she quivers her verse through rock and clay or delivers her message for a boulder to come calling. She’ll stomach the pain of this healing long before she’ll stomach the pain of man’s suicidal journey.
(Don’t leave out the charade.)
Oh Yes! Let’s play a charade! Let’s act as if I'm sightless to and unaware of Love's exactness!
Stop your foolishness! There’s no time to play anything but yourself!
The bumbling clowns came in and tumbled their noses out of the wagon of laughter. She breathes yet! She breathes! Like a pair of violins would seem to create what just one might not, but would suffice if she had an audience. An audience of peaceful warriors for Love and laughter, for glee and wonder, life eternal.
Rise up fiddle! Play me your rapid fire soliloquy, your piercing gaze that strikes us at our curtain.
The rumble and weeping are almost too much for me to bear! Oh Great Grandmother, Great Grandfather lift me up in my hour of darkness! Oh Grandmother, Grandfather hold me close that I might recognize Love! Oh Mother and Father, you too see her Truth, remind us that Love is ours to have and to hold, that we too must do nothing but Love...
Why do I march headlong into my own destruction? The vibrations that ease their way through me now are those of an ancient rhythm. A rhythm that’s weaved its way into animal and into animal and into animal and into animal- Stop! Into animal into animal into animal into animal- Stop! Animal animal animal animal animal, came the somber echo…
Shhh… You might wake the night. You might sleep past your casualty, beyond your welcome.
She could do it, I know. She could lift this all away, send it away with exactness, eternal life, memory.
This is no way to go out, no way to end such a spectacular beginning. It was new, it’s water sparkling, its shorelines fitting together like a jigsaw puzzle for ages five and creation. (What? Let me look at that again…)
This is no way to end things, no way to conclude from this point into anything beautiful because I'm too busy crafting the next war, the next fix, the next thievery, the next rape, the next hungry, the next slave. …The eartH is Home and Heaven, the eartH is the Heart(H) of Love.
Hold on one dad-gummed second there! Am I trying to say that I'm an angel? That the eartH is Heaven, Home?
Good question. Ponder it and then begin...
She looks thinner.
Limbs, hanging on by a threadbare whisper, a slight rustle and a loving grace, she soars.
Listen to her plea!
Heed her tongue crackling with sorrow!
She begs for us to see!
She does not long for us to fail- fail her, fail Love, fail creation, fail Grandmother, fail Grandfather, fail. Laughter’s etched with our names on her skin like a tattoo engraved by Love.
Wear it proudly.
Wear it lovingly.
She looks ill with man’s use.
She seems to be nearing her tolerance.
Oh! Let us prop open our eyes by ceasing the noise found in our machines!
The greatest invention ever imagined remains the Heart(H) of Love, his bride, an eternal eartH.
Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump!
We cannot forgo the truth.
The truth tarries not.
The truth does not hold her tongue, she speaks plainly-
rumble, quake, groan- she Loves without condition save that we-
boom, rattle, thump echo- Love, Love, Love, Love…
Fear is the death knell to Love. Fear runs through the blood like a madman with a machete! Machete? Did someone say machete? (Careful, now. Fear runs rampant on the playgrounds of war.)
We’ve nothing to fear but ourselves.
Crash the party, trumpet, with your tap tap tappety tap on the spine of Creation! Guitar, strum me some melancholy tune for my arrival, then bring me soaring! You too, piano! Jump in, tambourine! Hey, Fiddle! Resurrect my soul that I might dance! Soak my veins in Love, dear cello! Sling me inside the mouth of all things sacred, didgeridoo!
You got to be a witchdoctor to have such hands. You got to be Love to perform the miracles you do. Oh! Pray me out of this dream!
Drenched in sweat I see her before me, wings high above her shoulders, eyes the color of Creation, the heart of an angel, Love. She had again returned to me, she guided her heart to mine and we danced along the pathway.
There are no meadows here.
The ice will come again as a blanket for the Willow, the snow will come again as winter’s sleep, the rain will come again as a baptism of truth, and her quake will come again to create herself anew.
What of humankind?
I don’t know. Anything’s possible, if we’ll but choose Love.
The wisp of cloud, the rumble of the jet, the birds singing of Love, the quickening noise of interstate traffic, the wind pirouetting with the breeze, the sun, like a blanket to cover the world, the wars, the murder, the hunger, the rape, the torture, the needy, the downtrodden, the hope, the joy, the laughter of contentment. We can find never-ending Love that will accompany eternal life’s servitude in humbleness and always with glee, if we’ll never again imagine hell.
Are we not ready to laugh? Are we ready to live? If we’ll but Love, we will. We will eat of the fruit of our goodness, we will drink at the table that is the river, laugh with the belly of the wind and rejoice in the spirit that lives upon and in the soil. If we will but speak our prayers into motion that they might have chance of being answered, if we’ll but react to each and all with a thrumming goodness, if we’ll but keep our most ancient promise, if we’ll but open our eyes to truth, we will be in heaven… the one of our choosing.
Oh! Dear Grandmother and Grandfather, what are we to do with Love's wisdom if we seek it not? What of the eternal Heart(H), we’ve a heart, we’ve a beat or two left if Love’ll grant it…
The bell tolls in the distance and the weeping willow comes to with the splash of Love's rain and the slap of the Love’s wind. She is all instruments. She is all. She and Love are in holy matrimony.
The heart is the most vital of organs, Love made all as an ode to life.
You’ll see them again. Life is eternal, yet ever changing, evolving if you will…
Humankind, individual entities, can no more know that their belief is truth than they can the instructions of Love. And we’ve wed ourselves to one belief, one storyline out of billions, soon we’ll find we’ve not much wind left for another.
And another emerges, the one we should never have forgotten…
It wasn’t your fault. It was mine. The deed falls squarely on my shoulders, it is mine to bear, mine to choose, mine to be, mine. The self is important my friends. It is who we are! A single entity of the whole!
Brothers and sisters, please understand that this is my belief. It isn’t science, it’s a journey. Who I am chose this journey knowing the possibilities, but what I shouldn‘t have ever imagined is that I would be fearfully timid. No longer. We’ve cleaved ourselves in half and do battle both our evil and our good.
But how can this be? Asked the man. We fight the evil that’s attacking our good! How dare you!
No! How dare you try and imagine what it is that we are here for and indoctrinate through fear? Shred every instance of evil from your books and leave goodness, use the Love, for that is all Love smiles on. Evil is not of Love. It is not Creation’s way. It is humankind that fears. It is humankind that imagines they are loving while creating their own death mechanism, Love. The one they’ve never quite understood. The gravitational thrum of our origins. The silence cannot come soon enough. The world is most ready to love, laugh and live. So, live! Rise up and be heard! Love!
It’s the oldest question that man has ever had. Why? Why am I here? What created all of this amazing and eternal life?
Mankind was tossed out of Heaven. Banished from paradise we wander upon what can only be agony to the blind wanderer who find themselves utterly at a loss as to what to do because they don't know where they are. (Foul questions! For the Love of Love! Use your instincts!)
Is the mystery not great enough that we think we can imagine a greater story and then construct beautiful and giant churches on top of the original altar and then have the nerve to destroy the gift that writhes beneath our thankless feet!
Wake up! Love before Love indicates to our blindness that it’s too late for prayers sunken by man’s word. The corruption of the story. The one truth that we must grasp is that we are in heaven as we speak…
It’s time to Love her in return. Love would smile most for our change of heart.
What are you saying? That the eartH is heaven?
Why not? It is not beyond anyone’s imagination, at least that‘s what I imagine. This is not about what we believe, it’s about who we are! Animal’s beholden to the eartH. It’s about where we are. We are an advanced creature in the Animal Kingdom are we not? My! Just look at us? What are we thinking? We’re attempting to murder the eartH! She is the heart of Creation, the bloodline of Love!
The eartH is Love?
She’s both, the heart of Love and Love. Everything we see is Love. All life is Love’s, and we want to claim it as our own?
Yes. Shame on us! A most foul and grave transgression! Let us fall on our knees and pray for forgiveness!
Then we must stop our self-pity and begin the journey to recognize Eternal Love. She waits on us…
Look at her… She waits with Love for me to return. She pleads with a whisper of air asking that I remember. That I remember who I am, remember what I am and above all remember where I am.
Oh dear, Grandmother! Won’t you serenade us with your Love? Won’t you whisper your sweet breath into our bleeding ears and deliver us from our thinking, from our wars and from our greed? Bring us out of this labyrinth of our own making. Witness our sorrow, witness our regret, witness our reaping of thy Love.
I beg you to stay! Please do not go! My Love for you is all I breathe, all I imagine, all I want to know…
Don’t you see? You are the Mother. You are the Grandmother. You are the Great Grandmother. You are my Love. You are Love. I am yours. It is perfection this circle, never-ending, evermore, eternal Love…
Look at her…
Did you give and receive all of your gifts made of plastic, wrapped in paper, drawn from oil, and taken with pride and greed?
Did you smile upon your neighbors all?
Did you pray to your manifestation to correct your woes or did you pray for Truth?
Did you pray to the sky or did you pray to your feet?
Did you wish that your feet might be the first to recognize where they walked?
Did you ask the right questions of your belief?
Is it loving throughout, is it peaceful?
Is there laughter throughout, is it joyful?
Is it something known, or is it belief?
Did you put words in the mouth of creation?
Did you imagine that maybe the creator's not to be known to us, but believed?
Did you submit to war and it’s hideous countenance, or did you strive toward peace that she might rise up with Love in her speech, erupt with love and goodness nestled upon her bosom?
Your belief had better come from nothing but Love or there’ll be agony to pay.
You’ve been waiting on me. I didn’t know, or perhaps I failed to remember that you loved me. It must have just slipped my mind and I forgot that you are the timeless heart that thumps for Love.
What was that? Dogs and Cats are outside into something damned. You’ve been waiting on me. I know. I simply forgot you were there?
Here. Not there.
What was that? People and rats digging in the gutter for food.
You are the one that is there. I am here, beneath you. Why the expression? Where did you imagine you were? No. Your belief had better come from nothing but Love or there’ll be agony to pay. If damnation is what you fear, why cower at what must be your greatest contribution to Love- Caring for creation. It’s your only duty and it pleases Love.
A mother will not be a true mother until they’re both. She is The Grandmother. Let us have a rebirth of Love! Let us not look back in regret at what we created from perfection.
Let me never look back and witness my failure to speak up with truth that it might reveal the (H)eartH as Heaven and Home.
And that’s what faces me, a luminary of staggering light reminding me that it’s a beacon from Love, a reminder that we do our best when striving toward our intended purpose. Stewards of her resting place, the heart of Creation, it is heaven, so to speak. She is what we make of her.
These old scars, a wound long put to rest and the soul that entered my body, have been trying to scratch their way out ever since, clawing and gnashing and working their way to the surface of me.
The truth, was one night the truth? Could tomorrow collapse on exactness? Might we all be wrong, yet turn the truth to guide us back away from the walls of oppression, away from apartheid and genocide, torture and disease, away from delusions and greed?
We, humankind, are noteworthy in that we are able to craft our own reality. That’s animal, what of the spirit? Does she benefit from our abstention? Will she allow her own death? Will Love allow the spirit to vanquish itself? If we succeed with our current method we will have not slain Love, we will have forsaken Love’s most precious gift, life eternal, the (H)eartH, Love. Why would Love knowingly commit suicide? For that matter, why would Love make the most perfect creation ever known that sustains eternal life’s fluidity for only a select number of souls? (Again, why would Love commit suicide?)
Love’s not dying, we are. Each trace of manmade things that taint the earth cause time to slip, days come swift. Having failed Creation, Life, Love, The Mother, the Grandmother, the Great Granmother, we won’t even be able to recognize ourselves.
It is not Love that is to blame for our penalty, we shaped it of fear, of our imaginings and nightmares instead of our dreams. Creation did not set out to destroy its HeartH, we chose to slay the Heart(H) of Love. We allowed ourselves to go or to be taken down the torturous path, so the blame falls squarely on our thinking. It is our failure to remember the reason for our being that has us in trouble. It matters not what we believe, it matters what we do.
Is it just me. Have I, the ego, come unfettered and clanked my way across my own senses? I’d hope so…
Today I smiled. I wasn’t supposed to know. I was to be.
I’m smiling now.
This journey of ours only seems like its forever, until the next, and the next and the next- oh swim me your sultry doctrine, lift your prayers downward, reacquaint them with truth.
This trek across the familiar seems familiar, yet unknown. The instinct of where we are allows us to remain humble.
We’ve wrecked our last lifetime. Us, we, you and I are guilty of attempted murder, bribery and thievery of The Grandmother, the Heart(H) of Love, Heaven and Home!
You’re as guilty as charged. How will you plead?
Might I say I loved most of the time? Might we say that we deserve another chance?
You’ve had so many! You’ve had an eternity of chances. How many more might have to suffer because of your foul arrogance?
Are you hearing these words, spirit?
They are mine.
Oh spirit! Send me beneath thy veil that I might soar with thee, eartH and eternal life. Love and peace.
Stewards, ready yourselves for her speech and to again begin your care of her, care for heaven, this is the throne upon which Love will speak. Love and Heaven, will be heard. Heed the time, she will speak with thunder and lightening, the rivers will rise up to be heard and the sliding rocks will swallow up our hell on eartH. See the eartH quaking? Let us cleanse her and then see where we go from there. Love.
Destruction’s the easy way out, loving and- Switch off the green of eternal life.
Isn’t that suicide?
The opposite of Love is fear. Fear is of man, not of creation...
I should want to be Love. Why am I holding my tongue like I'm too frightened to speak a truth or too blind to see that Love is Love? Why am I contributing to the warring, the raping, the murdering and starving when I'm supposed to be a steward of Love? I need my beliefs to be beautiful through and through, Love, not fear.
Love is Love, fear is fear.
Finally a flicker of light in the tower! Remember, I’ll need my mind to repair the mess I’ve made. Afterward, I won't need the thinking part of my brain nearly as much as I will the part of the brain that remembers past lessons. I'll begin with the spirit and remember that I am responsible for its safe passage back to truth, and then to her water and then tending to her shores and trees. The sun and a fine mist of Love will blanket my work and I’ll dance and rejoice. I’ll give thanks to Love- her sway within all and everything. I'll look beneath my feet and be still my heart, and she will writhe in my soul evermore.
Oh, Love! She moves… Ask thy queen to hold back her wrath or there will not be enough time to convince seven billion flowers that they'll live forever if they'll but bloom with Love.
Shuffle, schism, boom! Now! Love now! Bring forth your best and brightest Love for all to witness! Bring your tired faces out into the sun, laugh your tightening lips, cry your eternal joy, rest your tired soul and always Love. Love always.
Love me for eternity and I’ll for eternity Love thee and together we’ll open Heaven’s doorway. Look beneath your feet, wait to feel the pulsating Love, if you’re quiet enough to listen, you'll hear it pulse through us all! She waits for us to receive Love’s signal to begin our collective and full Love. Pray we heed the call. Pray our answer comes swift that we might have enough time remaining to hold away her righteous anger.
Oh, Grandfather and Grandmother, I am so very sorry for having wielded such man-made weaponry against the surface of Love. I’m humbly sorry for having wielded my ego instead, brandished lust in front of Love, and held her soil, her waters, her mountains and her sky as my property.
I want to be Love. I want to be Love. I Love all of thee and back to me until all of our lines are blurred with Love. The pathway of Love stretches around the globe, resistance breeds contempt- Love’s stretched just about enough, prepare for her wrath. I awake, it’s after noon.
I am Love.
I could have gone about the business of Love with my sights set on what Love can do for me, achieve for me, yet I've done my best to remove the ego from belief and have chosen to humbly worship Love.
It matters what awaits us in what we believe- heaven, hell, nothing, another life, eternity. (Truly believe you are in heaven and heaven’s where you’ll be.)
Pray you’ve created something beautiful from out of your belief. Pray.
Lose the ego! Lose the ego! Lose the ego and win the day! Merge with life as it was intended. Live, Love, laugh and give. Pay it forward, pay it ever onward toward splendor.
Look at her! Look at her! Look at her! She weeps of our foul wishes, weeps of our loveless art, weeps for our wayward spirits that they begin to walk with Love… with Love.
The pain was enough to make me cry. Her sky revealed my insignificance.
Life is actually quite simple- Love and care for my home. Love is quite simple really, live life with Love on my sleeves, in my smile, in my eyes, in my walk and in my treatment of all things upon the path that is my journey.
If I am to be a loving steward, why am I not bowing to her if she is Love? If I forsake Love, my imaginings will come true as I unfold them for all to see. The remedy for achieving full Love is to Love fully. Love, and I will be in heaven, sneer, and I'll land in hell. Love merely wants me to choose.
Her voice rang out like an eagle’s shriek summoning me to me. I landed on my knees and stayed in supplication for days, touching her damp loam with affection… and regret.
Don’t dwell on your regrets. Dwell on something that moves Love forward.
If humankind is to have been for a reason, might it have been for Love?
Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop your death. Prop up the rain another day.
What do you do?
You slather liberty for a privileged few.
Leaning against the wind, see it topple?
Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop your fall. Stop it! Swim the sun another day.
Do you know where you are? You must bring your legs behind your prayers and use motion to fly them to consciousness.
Begin! Begin! Begin! Begin your Love. Here comes the rain...
It’s too late for repentance... now is the end... now is the end... now is the end... now is the end... now and now and now and now and now and now without end! Love now. Love now. Love now. Love now. Love now. Love, that you might be and be that you might Love…
Take me homeward, daughters. Lead me through the darkness with my mind trained on the light. Though I walk through the valley of the shadows of death, though I walk through the valley, I Love. Though I walk through the slums, I Love. Though I walk through the halls of false power, I Love. Though I walk throughout, I Love.
We figured it out. The web of our making brought us nearer the other, nearer to Love. Nearer. And we found ourselves, find ourselves marching on the streets smiling upon one another. Heed this call, heed her prayer that she might see our change even before we feel ourselves begin to weep for our transgressions. Weep not! Do!
Motion creates. The universe is in constant flux…
You’re the one that is called innocence, you are most virtuous and have risen to the heights of angels. You are blameless. You soar, yet you’re firmly rooted to the eartH in your flight. She and thee are both Heaven and Home, my Love.
Echo… The Grandmother is the promised gift of eternal life! The eartH is Heaven.
The gavel came down like the gargantuan thunder of Love. The storm passed too quickly, we thought. The squall ran its brazen claws against the mountain side- Drum, pound me your thunder! Roll across the valley like a comet and- Hit it! Bring the stick down hard against the skin! Let us hear our wailing prayers! Again and again let us memorize the loss if humankind succeeds in self-fulfilling prophecy.
So we are what we think…
There’s no need for formal introductions, brothers and sisters. We’re family. Two equal shorelines encircling bodies of water waning from pollution. I prayed to Love that we see with enough time to correct our grave mistake. I begged creation to wake us up from our slumber. Humankind has poisoned the apple, my queen.
Awaken, children! Your mother’s calling you…
My neck is stiff from sleeping. Maybe I’ll write something…?
I bent the light with my mind. It blinded me.
The music stopped playing with the drone of a failing battery. I was at a loss for…
The cat slinked down the street as if looking for something of himself that he’d misplaced. As if lost and without a friend, without the sweet breath of Love upon him, he disappeared with one last look over his shoulder. I now know Love. I used to think it was something altogether different, like a chameleon swordfighter who mistook his sword for his hand. Love’s a lot less complicated than we make it out to be. Do not hate. Do not seek your status with pride, let it come naturally. Trust in Love. If you don’t trust in Love, then trust in yourself.
Do you remember where you are?
Serenade me to sleep my lovely willow. Sling your long arms about and dream me to sleep.
Peace, Love and goodness be with the world…
Now we’re in the thick of it. Muck up to our eyeballs, poisons seeping into the heart of Love, The (H)eartH.
The people stand accused of the attempted murder of eternal life, spat the sleet.
The people stand accused of deserting heaven for their own makeshift concoction of agony.
The people stand accused, blasted war!
The people stand accused, crooned peace!
The people stand accused, reasoned justice!
The people stand accused, trumpeted the wind!
The people stand accused… of sheer stupidity.
Your job is to be stewards of life, proud of your home, sure of your kinship… loving.
She raises her voice with grace, plants the seeds that open the eyes, lifts the green with her loving water and begs that I begin to implement the promises that I’ve made.
Objection! Leading the witness!
Is this the reality we want to leave for our children and grandchildren? Push it off on the next generation and their children and then to theirs and then to theirs- an infinity of others following suit across a sky of diamonds? She is our precious Love and we're set to topple her trees, ruin her water, all the while dumping depravity into the children’s minds who grow up to become accomplices to the attempted murder. We must realize that the eartH is not just another planet, it is, quite literally, the Heart(H) of Love.
Jump start me, bartender! Bring round your liquid-wrench to loosen the chords we've hung around ourselves and then stood back and jumped as if we didn't recognize our own guilty faces!
Within us all there is Love or an attempt to murder Love through words that are lined with vile intentions that have been blossoming throughout our sleep. Life and the eartH react to the will of Love. And humankind thought they would don their masks and then have the nerve to attempt to play creator? This because they’re just dying to live forever- forever in agony on eartH instead of nurturing a Heaven.
We want to live forever at the behest of humankind? We don’t know! We only believe! We cannot know beyond where we are or where we've imagined ourselves to be! Life’s been trained to deny reality, so we oblige ...and we’ve the nerve to feign Love for creation?
What do I think of that? To Love and respect? To cherish evermore?
There you stand with your feet firmly on the ground, howling to mother that she might sense your hemorrhage! Howling dear father! Wail your misery! Pound your storm! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Your bride is bleeding out.
Better I relinquish my sword and begin to design my heaven from the things of Love.
And remember; never underestimate Her power and His will.
Pretty strong. The weight of it tires me of Love.
It’s harder to Love than it is to hate, she said.
We are on the same wheel, next to one another.
Yes. Where have you been?
What do you mean?
I’m on my way!
I can’t hold back the flood much longer, Great Grandmother.
There are children dying of hunger, Grandmother.
Their ribs speak pantries full of my apathy, Mother.
Their eyes speak libraries of my fear, Great Grandfather.
My greed's been left to fester and paint the self-portrait of my demise. They, these dying children, are waiting on me to rise up and feed them! Shall I wait longer? Can I actually allow another day to pass before I speak my mind, before I shake the foundations of apathy and flood the world with Love?
I'm on my way! There are children thinned from hunger, sunken by indifference- Oh! Love, bring me along now to prevent even the least of suffering! I'm on my way and need you to guide me through Love’s maze that I might arrive and turn into another and another and wed with Love for better or worse, for richer or poorer, for Love before fear, Love before war, Love not greed, Love not hunger, Love long before death. The green of Love stands like a fortified stronghold, hips beckoning to me, eyes gazing upon man's fear.
She pleads for me to speak, to act upon the promises that tumbled off my wagging tongue.
Last night I dreamt that I died without the grace of Love. Her rivers flowed of death, wailed of profound tragedy and humankind’s want. Rivers flowing of blood, rivers smothered in toxins, rivers of plastic, rivers of waste, rivers of death twisting their way back. That was not last night’s dream. That is now.
Last night’s dream snuggled her fangs into my spirit, sending me to me.
Last night I dreamt of death. It crawled inside my carcass like a worm, pulsating into my being. Who is the author of this grand production? Whose damaged mind came up with this little play, this unimportance in the larger scheme?
She is with me. I can’t verify her credentials, so it's better to be safe than to be sorry. Love.
Last night I ached for truth and woke to my spine tied up in knots.
Careful what you ask for, child. Better to be sorry than remain safe…
Last night I dreamt I died without the grace of Love.
12 Bach- shudder at the end. Nonsensical, sounds grand. Stupid me. Stupid you. Stupid she. Stupid he. Stupid father. Stupid mother. Stupid son. Stupid daughter. Stupid nephew. Stupid niece. Stupid uncle. Stupid aunt. Stupid we.
Yo Yo Ma take us away from this end, trails of eternal whispers heard and felt upon the spirit doing its best to penetrate the thickness of skulls.
Look beneath you, all you ever need do is remember where you are, the eartH, Heaven and Home. We, her stewards, have cause to fight for truth, for Love, for her, for it is all there is in the end. The rest is recycled with the new spirits stepping off into the next. Perhaps…
12 Bach, shudder at the end, a forever of glee. Is it me? Am I up next? Can I be late to my own debut? Fear is the mind-killer. Stupid fear…
You can know a truth without actually ever having been convinced of it. I imagined you were an angel, who’s to say I’m wrong? Some may, but I will still consider her an angel for having strayed into my path to begin with. This dance is not mine, it is ours. She moves about us like light choreographing around planets, like you and I tragically searching for the blue and green thread between love and Love and it’s always been just beneath our feet.
Sing me a moan so clearly blue, play me a lick that soothes of green, take me down with my soul lying between your words and your soul resting between mine. Begin...
No. But I thank you for your kindness.
A hundred men could not sway my allegiance from truth. I've the strength of Love. You can seek the same. Bow to her with your sorrow at having tried to slay her with your grimacing eyes when you'd all the reason to smile. Love...
I’m a foul beast if I do not carry on, if I do not seek the truth through the spirit of others what good am I to the least of you? Washed out to the least of that which is the most in you. Echo…
My fingers shook, but not from the cold, from the damage. Years of alcohol abuse, self abuse, friend abuse, arrogance, intolerable cruelty. Me, I and mine serving no human purpose. We are meant to, programmed to, imagined to, created to serve one master. We are the stewards of Love in Heaven. Echo…
How is this possible? I never could have imagined such a thing coming to me. Entering me with spirit, human spirit, you, you, you, you, you and you and you and you. Echo…
I now know, my dear, that you have always loved me, and in that knowledge rests my salvation. I Love you Michelle, my angel Love. You are my orchestra. Play on! Move me to dream of sleep in your arms evermore. Echo... I Love you, Mark, my Love. Love of mine, I am your orchestra, violin strings humming- enter a clarinet’s sorrowful prayer piercing the air- and I will play on and move you to sleep in my arms evermore. Echo...
Random thoughts sewn discordantly before you. Such is the life of one who knows not who they are.
But I had to know that what I imagined was real, what was real could be imagined, know that what I usher in will come quietly, the least suffering, emerge with Love...
Who says it has anything to do with me? The wind speaks in my stead. The rain soaks my venom with sweet affections. The mountains drum their echoes that flatter of beauty, truth and Love.
Peace and goodness be with you. Echo...
It is time to learn life from the ground up, not too far off of the soil, just enough to have a chance at never disregarding her. We’ve broken down the walls and spirit is bleeding out, calling our names like solemn prayers- shriek and wail, after you’ve laughed, evermore breathed again and again to always return to Love. Speak of Love. Discuss Love. Laugh with Love. Cry with Love. Dance with Love. Smile with Love. Be Love. Love.
Bow to them they told me, bow. Bow they demanded, bow. But I’d have none of it, this, my belief, is mine. The angels allowed me to dance, a silent waltz that came blistering across the floor like justice within the Heart(H) of Love. Rejoice! Hit it bugle! Soar me a note with G force winds and valuable dreams- Stop. Begin to dream. Dreams, as well as Love, are free. Stop.
I am not alone. I have Love. On her way by me last year, I thought I’d catch a ride.
I’d tried so many other ways, but Love’s destiny evaded my pathway toward war.
Let us Love now …Now. Now, before we hear our echoed fate, Manifest Destiny- dreams by any other name are false.
Assemble your Heaven to its original tallness, to its amazing beginning and never-end for all of life, Love’s precious creations… Meant for all living things, a sun that asks not for anything from us but that we Love, a moon that beckons our higher thoughts, but also a cautionary star or two shoot by in mid-flight ...and I hear the strings quiver on that note… Hush, child. I am here. I am Love.
The story returns carrying grave sorrow last upon its brow. The story never ends, really. It goes on for as long as it takes to create an infinite Love... The story never ends, it changes. Try putting a period or a conclusion on anything that is Love and you’ll find out that you were wrong. It’s not about right and wrong. It’s about nature.
It’s about truth!
Truth never ends. She meanders around campfires jostling souls before she goes. She is the unspoken truth, a wordless truth, the mother of all we know, The Grandmother, the Heart(H) of Love.
Creation is begging we reconsider our discordant path. Pleading we camp here evermore. Praying that we love, Love without attachment. Love is unattached because it is free…
Bring me out of this latest collapse found deep in me, this story- this Love that shines in me is not me. It is you, brothers and sisters, without your Love, I would not be.
Truth never ends. She meanders around campfires jostling souls before she moves on. She is the unspoken truth, a wordless exactness, the mother of all we know, the Grandmother, the HeartH of Love.
The cavern will do, but a smaller affair is in order. The cavern’s too wide to hold the innocent and their shriveled up lot of Love. The meadow stands open. Rise now with the fury of the grudge you hold for what you’ve allowed. Cast a shadow now, Mother! Rake your Love across this encampment, that warriors might find their way to the next leg of your journey, until next imagine themselves worthy of this battle for peace. Love waits for her just reward.
The mountain’s hold the caverns, as does the ground, the mighty sentinel holding fast his slipping grip on man. Wake me in time for water, my Love! Wake me in time to smile upon your loving grace, delightful day.
I dreamt you held my hand at the cellar door, and then dreamt that I remembered it. Dreams turn into prayers and prayers turn into dreams. I used to dream of emptiness, of quiet, of nothingness, death, ever sleep. Now I dream of Love. Of Love, I dreamed she still smiles, dreams, loves.
Light, before snow twitches into afternoon, brushes a shade across the hue that echoes of Love. Listen. Hear her plea- Tend her needs before your own. Love. Remember.
I took the wrong path so long ago… the steps came swift with winter and I saw my reflection lurch like fate.
I’m meant to stand and let her massage my feet, animal, remember where, who and what I am, and then bow to her hold on me. I’ll weep if I must, but for the love of life, Love’s mystifying creation, I will be her steward now.
Raise the Mother to her original tallness, gaze upon her grandmother majesty, and eat of her fruit, her green life, with a rainbow of affection as sentinel.
Pound out my Love like a peace-drum and let it carry me along. Yes. I took the wrong path, but I now happily retrace my steps on the way back, only to find me standing agape, bent in great pain at what I’ve done to heaven.
Pray I’ve time to remedy my gravest sin…
Knowing where you are, knowing and loving where you are, this is the only form of life (as we imagine it) that has life similar only to itself and it is, by all intents and purposes, Heaven, the Heart(H) of Love. We are the blind, remember? We do not see our own fortune. Eternal Life with Love. (Look beneath your feet!) Never having to go without because you chose to follow what was familiar over the unfamiliar. The familiar path is human, as well as Love.
We’ll breathe our last taking what isn’t ours to take. Bring down your gavel upon humankind's foul thoughts, spirit prayers for those afraid. Yes. It might be time to begin…
They’re not going to let me come forth without peace and full Love in my spirit, moving warlessly.
Who are they?
You and I swaying to the other’s spirit, creation’s manifestation of Love; live for eternity if you always cherish her Love, her earthly dominion. You better prepare yourself to repeat the same mistakes over and over and- Clarinet! Moan me your most sorrowful wail. Bang your drums with glee and attend to the eartH (Heaven and Home), and family. ...Piano! Roll your lightening that she might glimpse tomorrow!
Peace and full Love?
They’re not going to let you, either…
I am not ready to relinquish this kingdom. I am ill-equipped to handle such blood. I am pulling for Love, that she might do her eternal duty, spirit evermore in the garden.
Heaven, by any other name, disregards the rareness of creation, it’s Love.
In this beginning there is Love. Now Love is not formless, empty or dark. The spirit of Love is the eartH. The Love of spirit is humankind’s equal duty.
I know what makes you write.
They’re not my words. They’re of you.
Words are part of who we’ve become.
Your spirit sees it quite another way…
Shouldn’t we do something before the final sunrise of man?
Before fear replaced survival?
The willow tree’s a storyteller- words brushed the ground. The wind, her jealousy as temptress, bristled in my veins as the cold lowered her ire.
It is time to think on death. It is time to reach inside. It is time to make my voice known. The wind, her jealousy as temptress. The willow tree’s the storyteller- hope fell happily across her lap.
The monstrousness is that of man garnering knowledge, discovering who he’s always been is far harder than he could ever have imagined.
I don’t know how I came crashing out of the heaven I’d imagined, into the heaven I should have always known? Dear daughters, you’ve been waiting for some dim light to come flickering from behind my glimmer.
I am coming around to who I am by getting to know you. My Love of you resembles our climb- looks as if a snow might come and anoint the sweltering soil.
Might an army have been being assembled long before I was even a thought, a me, an I? Enough of me, what of Love? Stop!
Love came back to me, assembled into a single thought, before me, you, and I?
Children, I will love you evermore.
What have I not yet recognized of myself in you that is something other than Love?
Let us begin…
You awoke too early, the dance hadn't begun.
I begged to differ. The twisted tale came roaring like a river set loose its tether, like a rock ballad lifted high in its belief. The song plays now, if I choose to hear it.
Listen... Listen... Listen! Listen... Listen… Listen! Listen. Listen. Listen!
Love’s what brought me to belief. What’s between the thought and the ear is too great a distance to ever rise. What’s between my reality and my thought? What’s between your reality and your thought? What’s between all reality and collective thought? What’s between your reality and your thought? I’m in heaven.
I look around me and what do I see? Love, family, laughter. The thing that must set us free from who we’ve become and allow us to remember who we were and her plea that we love.
Are you my daughter? The spirit of Love blows now southward, beyond the raging rush hours, outside of self, just being. What courage is found in denying it any longer, they are upon me with Love, I upon them with Love’s command for my embrace. With reflections casting pearls, Love and laughter and the landscape littered with fear- I recall this feeling, it felt like cherish the mother, my beholden, my Love, my worship, my daughter. I think I may have stumbled upon heaven.
We can believe what we want, we needn’t reality to dream, they’ve enough wasted in this moment. Time is an absurd concept! How dare we attempt to scribble our hate-filled foolishness upon the Heart(H) of Love?
That which is Love. You are my child. Daughter, it is me.
Love... Love... Love... Love... Listen. Listen. Listen. Listen. Love…
We had to speak, we had to.
We had to love, we had to.
We had to laugh, we had to.
Exist without fear, we have to.
By the grace of Love we fly.
By the shame in Man we die.
Oh! Lift me aloft that I might gaze down at her wonder! Bring my feet to flying that they might stumble upon truth. Swim my heart through ocean current that I might then thrust it into my Love.
When did it begin to fail? What are we doing if we’re not worshipping simultaneously?
It is to what I know that I must bow. Bowing to my belief brings out that which is the least of me. The man I used to be.
I have to speak, I have to…