They gave me a gift, did my doubts, as I floated along toward forgiveness. I made them look at me with a spirit that was of only love, her red fruit touching the ground, her green, her sparkling wonder, love’s truth, not human’s use for hell.
Oh! Bring me your nectar, dear mother! I will Love thee evermore! Follow me. Follow me. Follow the shimmer of red now dancing through the mirror, across the bright memory of you…
Rejoice! It is time to rise up with Love! To every man, woman and child, it is time to be what you’ve prayed to be, angels, stewards of creation, everything and all that is love, the beginning and the never-end…
~
What song is this that laughs a smile wide and sets the spirit to dancing? Humankind’s song, their plays, their symphonies, their architecture of gloom, their destruction, their use, their-
Stop. That’s the one. Their architecture of gloom…
I’m Home with my brethren, all, my love for each of you is equal, the earth will have it no other way…
The truth always wins out when one is walking in heaven.
I need my brain examined.
Why?
Shhh… Careful we don’t stir the daffodils from off of their perch. Ahead of their floating life, their dance in the sunlight shining through the soul like a flashlight flickering in the distance. Their children darting briefly across the ground like a swimming fish glancing on top of the water. See her splash to love as she curves her belly upward?
Explain yourself!
See love awaken from her long slumber, her patience waned, her suffering greatest. Love is love through and through, man is the parasitic notion of himself as landlord to heavenly earth…
Yes. Men also say that none shall get to heaven by deeds alone? I say poppycock! How else would they ever find theselves there?
(Silence.)
~
It’s time to remedy the water, soil and air, the forests at war and her children at play. Come forward with a light upon the shores dear seas, come without the memory of the pasts foul use, and, if need be, erase any trace of your former self and begin again, there’s less suffering in it.
Belief must only breathe with love that it might cleave away the grip that fear has upon the voice.
Not long ago a different story unfolded, but with hell emblazoned at its core. This is a new chapter in belief… love of the heavenly earth and the resurrection of life.
Recall life long before humankind imagined it was theirs to claim, now, before earth launches her wrath beneath your collective feet…
© 2012 by mark prime