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The Heaven I paint is the Heaven I get

The Heaven I paint is the Heaven I get. The agony I paint, is mine as well, and so on, eternal blue bird, your sweet reverie wafts into my spirit, you too, eagle, you too, lovely bird. Sing me your stories and I’ll weave them into Love’s graces, and we, together as one spirit, can prove our allegiance to both, Mother and Father, honor the home, cherish and Love it, our reason for being, our beholden,  Love.

Wake up children! Quick! Into the cellar, there’s a storm a brewin’ between Love and Fear, Heaven and Hell, Here on eartH. On eartH for it is Heaven, in heaven as it is on eartH! We are home! Heaven is indeed ours to paint!

Heaven is yours to paint!

We are angels! Woe to the next line- brothers and sisters of Love, we’ve been led away from truth. We’ve been stumbling our thick wits across the globe like raving zombies! We’ve set our air off with a foul venom, we’ve deadened the soil from a rabid human race, we’ve blasted bone, blood and flesh! We’ve bludgeoned souls and tortured hearts, led children to their death, ignored what’s beneath our feet so that we might reap what we imagined we had any right to sow!

Fade away, cello 19, lay me down to dream with Love, to live with Love and let  Love live as my only duty. A tall order with an extra shot- if you keep your fear at bay, your dance will be one of Love evermore. If you keep your fear as Love your fear is where you go. No. Not for eternal suffering, but to sleep evermore without ever having recognized where you are…

Let us not wait for more of Love’s warnings, let us speak our Love like it’s sacred before we fall away from heaven evermore. Let us hold our tongues until they’re ripe with Love, stay the rage and wrath which has amassed from our greed and supplant it with the sweet whispers of Love in everything we do. Oh, Love! My hands are wide open, grasping for any and all that need me, loving them without question as my brother and my sister, as my family…

~

I’m sorry, Love. I’m sorry, Love. I’m sorry, Love. Love, I’m sorry. Won’t you please forgive me?


(The brutal tick of the clock brings your nightmares to a clanging heap of foul spirits leftover from an eternity of befores.)

Do not imagine that I will fail to rise on your behalf. Do not imagine another failure, the man I was before, the lie I lived, stumbling across this ground without recognition. The medicine of Love brought me to my belief, to dance with all spirits and to express only full Love. Hold all in high regard. Do not forgo my kinship with all living things, above and below my feet. Love...



© 2012 by mark prime


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