CONFESSION ZERO

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… © 2011 by mark prime

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? Yes? © 2011 by mark prime