Whisper to me lovely willow that I might glimpse your reason?
To shelter, my dear boy. To shelter.
Whisper to me lovely sky that I might breathe your reason?
To drape you in life, dear one. To drape you in life.
Whisper to me dear wife that I might steal a glimpse of the lovely spirit I’ve danced with the most in my journey. I know you chose it not, my love, but, in order for any of it to be seen as heaven, we must remain an unbreakable bond, evermore. Our love has, can and will rise above anything, anything but love. Love’s the ceiling, and then beyond.
Where are you?
Waiting.
Then shouldn’t you be running along now trying to save the earth? There’s gonna come a time when being seven feet tall’s not gonna find your nose above water...
What?
You’re the smart one, remember?
Touche!
~
I remember the spirit that rises and if I could strangle off a bit more of the beast that holds it down, I’d be soaring.
Let go!
I can’t. I’m being held by spirits that don’t need me, many that don’t want me and a few that are overjoyed that someone is having an influence on love. Have I lost my mind?
Yes, my love. but you needed to, it was getting in your way.
Touché!
~
Hello, goodbye, so easily off the tongue that man can’t sense he’s fallen.
Where on (H)eartH have you been? I expected you-
Hush. Hush and listen.
I’m waiting on a sign.
What would you call this?
~
For the Love of creation! I’m many!
(Silence. Willow. Wind. And not necessarily in that order.)
I have to speak, and in that, rests a most ambitious undertaking- to remain silent.
~
Sweet vibration, meditation, melancholy train coming around the mind, sing us a song for love that I might tarry not to your side, that I might see the grave abuse of your unrivaled beauty as my gravest sin. A song for Love.
Which one?
There is but one.
Then love needn't have a song to place her memories in. Love is love. Now do you hear the bells ringing?
Yes. I choose love. She’s risen up inside me like a grandmother, like the love I saw in her, the one that wasn’t loud in belief, the dear woman that heard my silly tales of woe and she’d laughter summon. My memory of her peers in on me like an owl roosting in the barn on the grounds of heaven.
~
Your thinking is too fast. Let it all go. End your wars, your hunger, your injustices, your pillaging of the earth, your murder and rape and ridicule of another, your loveless governments, your homeless homes, vacant of any love, your endless thoughts and none near enough to truth.
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Your suffering is yours to cleanse, as is your duty to love and cherish the earth…
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How does the spirit sing from only one line?
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Tear drops from gladness, sprinkling their banter down around you like the instinctual sense that you've arrived home…
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Beautiful.
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The spirit, my child, is a cacophony of love, one.
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This is crazy, I've too much to confess…
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Motion creates a moving salute to love, not flags or country or state or doctrine or another man, woman or child…
© 2012 by mark prime