CONFESSION ZERO

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. Wear it. 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… © 2011 by mark prime

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