Love is above all, is all and cherishes all and would no more send part of Love to writhe in agony than breathe hate into our lungs.
My vision suddenly strengthens the lens of which I view the world and the perfect combination of art and eartH rise to my seeing and heaven smiles upon me with the most loving affection I’ve ever known. Who, I ask you, would forgo such an embrace? The queen come calling with her Love held like a newborn Love, again and again and again she watches her children, much to grandma and grandpa’s sorrow, believe more than you could ever know in the flesh and in our sad spirits, believe and know nothing.
Love is above all, is all and cherishes all and would no more send part of Love to writhe in agony than breathe sorrow into Love. Love is Love. Understand? If Love is Love then where is all of man’s fear (hatred) coming from? See? Fear, hatred and want comes from man, the only advanced human-thinking animals who could ever have dreamed up hell!
Yes. Make no mistake, Love is real, it’s just that we’ve never believed in Truth. We favored deceit. Man has no idea what or who he’s messing with! What words, if any, get laid out like a sacrifice for choosing Heaven? Belief cuffed it to torture, murder, rape and war, sadness, sorrow, rage, anger, jealousy, lust, thievery, we cannot know, but we can imagine. Man, as far as man is capable, writes, paints, sings, dances, laughs, sculpts- Stop! Look at her! Look just beneath your feet, look at the Heart(H) of Love, kneel upon the spirit in the soil and forests, rivers and mountains, seas and Love! Look!
Now, do you see Love? (Keep looking. Love is patient.) Love is all things and man’s creator. Think… Breathe… Think… Breathe… Think… Breathe…
If Love is creator, Love alone decides what Love or Creation does next. We can watch and be victims of ourselves or we can honor Love's Heart(H) by returning it into heaven, breathing goodness back into our duty, hold tight our promise that we vowed of Love, Love for the eartH, Love's heavenly creation, that Love would smile upon our worship. (We are but mice to that which summons us. We are lost without Love, and our belief’s are irrelevant to Love, until this, the Heart(H) of Love, floats within our sight.)
We do not know. We cannot know! We haven‘t earned the right to know, until we prove our full Love. Until all wars end and peace is champion! Until we end our eartH-fouled waste in the oceans and seas, all of our famine and disease, end your murderous pace! Stop! Oh please! Cease your unfounded rush to have your belief realized only to quickly see that you were wrong. The definition of tragic. Your belief. Not even a whisper of your name in Love‘s storybook. Irrelevant, a waste of motion. Oh! Guitar hit your strings with the weight of Love and bring this crowd to its feet! Roaring come with laughter to the floor of heaven! Shine down now brave moon, your view has been long and disrupted by humankind. By folly and make-believe! By profiting from Love! (Or from the eartH, there‘s not a drop of light between the two.) Oh! Why can‘t we see! We can imagine a heaven, right, Mr. Lennon? Imagine heaven! Imagine it as you raise your arms in prayer that all children, from this day forth, be protected by the whole of man. That life is restored to balance before we leave our shells. (If we create a heaven, heaven's what we'll have...)
All humankind are precious, as is the soil, the air, the water, the creatures and all belief that honors the Love to that which cannot be known. Mankind’s image, of even one, dared imagine he’d the right to trace the steps of Love! Dance now, for you are in heaven! Rejoice with Love! Rejoice of the Heart(H) of Love beneath your feet! Love these shores! Love Love’s children, all! Love Love’s waters! Love Love’s forests, Love’s mountains and streams! Love Love!
Dreams will float us away if Love’s walking with us everyday, every hour, every minute, every time we speak, otherwise we should be silent in the grace of Love’s heaven, we’ll learn more not thinking than we’ll ever learn from our foul seeking…
We’ve not the mind’s for gleaning Love! We tend to our own, think of ourselves, did turn into ignoring the unloved billions and Love’s embrace changed over time. Tighter of a grip, or so it seems so from our slipping so near the edge of everything. I really don’t know and I have to keep reminding myself, but belief is a hard habit to break. Once you believe you’re in heaven, there aren’t many who could deny Love’s promise! I kissed my truth between Love’s eyes, it dove headlong into the abyss that was Love, that was I, that was Love. Love embraced my Love beneath my feet and I know Love speaks without word, but with creation’s beating Heart(H).
(Silence is key. Noise is born from man, sound was born from Love.)
Oh my Love! My angel! My beautiful Love, I do know, we both know, our Love is a reckoning of our spirit’s choosing! I am here to smile upon you. Cello, I can cry no more. Cease your hold on me, Bach. Yo Yo Ma release your quivering bow when Love vanquishes all and listen to the sounds of Love with us a while before we imagine ourselves grand beneath your beautiful muse, that man and Love should have stayed betrothed as intended, that eternal life be allowed to keep its memory of humankind.
(Wasted Love lay dead all around us, raging stadiums of zombies bent on agony.)
What did he say?
Abandoned laughter and tears flooded the stadium and the zombies at last faced Love and asked, “Are we in hell?” to which Love replied, “Yes. But I am man's author, not hell. That is man's.”
Love, you are everything, Love and joy. Man, you are everything, agony and Love. Love, man’s creator, life’s maestro, Heaven’s author, smiles upon us if we’ll but remember where we are, Home, evermore...
(Repeat "Love" often enough, and it becomes the Truth.)
Echo…
© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime
Love is above all, is all and cherishes all and would no more send part of Love to writhe in agony than breathe sorrow into Love. Love is Love. Understand? If Love is Love then where is all of man’s fear (hatred) coming from? See? Fear, hatred and want comes from man, the only advanced human-thinking animals who could ever have dreamed up hell!
Yes. Make no mistake, Love is real, it’s just that we’ve never believed in Truth. We favored deceit. Man has no idea what or who he’s messing with! What words, if any, get laid out like a sacrifice for choosing Heaven? Belief cuffed it to torture, murder, rape and war, sadness, sorrow, rage, anger, jealousy, lust, thievery, we cannot know, but we can imagine. Man, as far as man is capable, writes, paints, sings, dances, laughs, sculpts- Stop! Look at her! Look just beneath your feet, look at the Heart(H) of Love, kneel upon the spirit in the soil and forests, rivers and mountains, seas and Love! Look!
Now, do you see Love? (Keep looking. Love is patient.) Love is all things and man’s creator. Think… Breathe… Think… Breathe… Think… Breathe…
If Love is creator, Love alone decides what Love or Creation does next. We can watch and be victims of ourselves or we can honor Love's Heart(H) by returning it into heaven, breathing goodness back into our duty, hold tight our promise that we vowed of Love, Love for the eartH, Love's heavenly creation, that Love would smile upon our worship. (We are but mice to that which summons us. We are lost without Love, and our belief’s are irrelevant to Love, until this, the Heart(H) of Love, floats within our sight.)
We do not know. We cannot know! We haven‘t earned the right to know, until we prove our full Love. Until all wars end and peace is champion! Until we end our eartH-fouled waste in the oceans and seas, all of our famine and disease, end your murderous pace! Stop! Oh please! Cease your unfounded rush to have your belief realized only to quickly see that you were wrong. The definition of tragic. Your belief. Not even a whisper of your name in Love‘s storybook. Irrelevant, a waste of motion. Oh! Guitar hit your strings with the weight of Love and bring this crowd to its feet! Roaring come with laughter to the floor of heaven! Shine down now brave moon, your view has been long and disrupted by humankind. By folly and make-believe! By profiting from Love! (Or from the eartH, there‘s not a drop of light between the two.) Oh! Why can‘t we see! We can imagine a heaven, right, Mr. Lennon? Imagine heaven! Imagine it as you raise your arms in prayer that all children, from this day forth, be protected by the whole of man. That life is restored to balance before we leave our shells. (If we create a heaven, heaven's what we'll have...)
All humankind are precious, as is the soil, the air, the water, the creatures and all belief that honors the Love to that which cannot be known. Mankind’s image, of even one, dared imagine he’d the right to trace the steps of Love! Dance now, for you are in heaven! Rejoice with Love! Rejoice of the Heart(H) of Love beneath your feet! Love these shores! Love Love’s children, all! Love Love’s waters! Love Love’s forests, Love’s mountains and streams! Love Love!
Dreams will float us away if Love’s walking with us everyday, every hour, every minute, every time we speak, otherwise we should be silent in the grace of Love’s heaven, we’ll learn more not thinking than we’ll ever learn from our foul seeking…
We’ve not the mind’s for gleaning Love! We tend to our own, think of ourselves, did turn into ignoring the unloved billions and Love’s embrace changed over time. Tighter of a grip, or so it seems so from our slipping so near the edge of everything. I really don’t know and I have to keep reminding myself, but belief is a hard habit to break. Once you believe you’re in heaven, there aren’t many who could deny Love’s promise! I kissed my truth between Love’s eyes, it dove headlong into the abyss that was Love, that was I, that was Love. Love embraced my Love beneath my feet and I know Love speaks without word, but with creation’s beating Heart(H).
(Silence is key. Noise is born from man, sound was born from Love.)
Oh my Love! My angel! My beautiful Love, I do know, we both know, our Love is a reckoning of our spirit’s choosing! I am here to smile upon you. Cello, I can cry no more. Cease your hold on me, Bach. Yo Yo Ma release your quivering bow when Love vanquishes all and listen to the sounds of Love with us a while before we imagine ourselves grand beneath your beautiful muse, that man and Love should have stayed betrothed as intended, that eternal life be allowed to keep its memory of humankind.
(Wasted Love lay dead all around us, raging stadiums of zombies bent on agony.)
What did he say?
Abandoned laughter and tears flooded the stadium and the zombies at last faced Love and asked, “Are we in hell?” to which Love replied, “Yes. But I am man's author, not hell. That is man's.”
Love, you are everything, Love and joy. Man, you are everything, agony and Love. Love, man’s creator, life’s maestro, Heaven’s author, smiles upon us if we’ll but remember where we are, Home, evermore...
(Repeat "Love" often enough, and it becomes the Truth.)
Echo…
© 2012 by mark prime
© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime