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There’s Not One Child Alive Today Because of a Bomb Constructed of Profit


There’s this rule I follow. Treat everyone as equal. All.

There’s a drum in that and a violin, there’s a flute letting down her hair, a cello thrumming its way into the heart.

Boom, boom went the bomb when humankind’s tongue began to toil. Money’s more precious than the earth, but not oil. Money’s the root and evil’s drawn man as a stick figure in a land of trees.

There’s not one child alive today because of a bomb constructed of profit.

Boom boom's not for the virulent rage and loveless smirk spinning its final war (self-propelled Armageddon), it's for Love.


The profit from misery will recoil in your gloom and leave you without breath, without flesh, without.

I've been too frightened to think beyond my nose, I've been pushed up against earth's loving soil trying to steal a glance. Why does the magnitude of love hold me here?

When eternity plunges within the spirit, humankind will know love. The streets of Gold, those of humankind, will waste away into the next great excavation of civilization.

All nations in their next burst of thought will, I pray, remember the earth, recall the rivers and what they did to the water, the meadow and the tree, the flesh and bone, to they and to we, and I pray they remember that how they cared for life, reflected their love…

The song of peace is within you. It writhes deep beneath the wars, the murder, the rape and the greed, beneath the tarnishing of home. Summon your Love to its original tallness. Seek out your reason, do not hesitate, it will rise. Cease our unreasonable dreams and look beneath your feet. Paradise awaits your stewardship.

Love is everything, I can no more write creation’s script than I can edit out my own…


© 2012 by mark prime


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