Skip to main content

Two. Twenty. Twelve. - Heaven and Home, A union of Love…


What music is that? It sounds fearful, it sounds frightful, and we believe and turn our favors inward and go blind to Love’s creation and endure the hardships and wars and murder and greed which walk to our doorstep in our shoes and tap on the glass to wake our sleeping affections and whisper into laughter’s ear the joyous things that serve as echo chamber to Love’s sweet and eternal Love.

The air writhed in cello as my mind swayed with the strings, the music, painted as big as a welcome home sign, moved me to smile upon her glee in me. Creation could not be happier, my Love, Mother, birth, Grandmother, eartH, Great Grandmother, truth, Father, mountains, Grandfather, oceans, Love The HeartH…

Might I see what others believe? Might I then wed the two into a lovely marriage, a music so profound it strokes the Heart in a cacophony of instruments, as varied as they are mutual lovers? A rock concert‘s freedom, a rappers words for equal justice, a country star driving the crowd mad with their mortal joy, or the violin above the Cello’s strings like an eagle who’s seen the landscape change, now diving earthward into the HeartH of Love with a look of invincibility…

Might I see what another believes and weave their Love into my story? Dance with their spirit, trace their belief and find the beauty within it all with chance enough to speak to everyone on eartH before I go, before the eartH wraps her arms around me and says, Goodnight? I Love you. And I dream of we, her human children, rising in time to have us finally see the face of Love, the face of her Love and his wrath.

Wrath? Why would anyone imagine that Love’s definition of wrath is the same as ours? Love’s wrath swims with sorrow, our wrath marches to fright and ends with eternal suffering, are we prepared to face our own beliefs? The sadness in our stories of creation, the great sorrowful rivers of words put into the mouth of that which cannot be known, have left us little room to breathe our Love.

We cannot not know Love until Love is recognized beneath our feet. Love the HeartH, Heaven and Home, a union of Love…

~

Why should I fear anything? Have I reason to fear what cannot be known by the flesh, but by the recollection of the spirit you possess when you’re happy? Fear is the mind killer and our wits have come fluttering like startled birds escaping the shadows. Pray they soar a loving dance with Love. Love’s precious gift to the consciousness, finally realized, will soar higher and fill us with more Love than we’ve ever imagined was due! You! You! And you and you and I and- Oh! Love! She weeps and he rises! She prays our return, he prays our Love, both pleading we rise in time to glimpse their growing sorrow…

The Heart(H) of Love is writhing beneath our weight. Love is crying out for us to witness truth, for us to garner exactness. Rise up and begin to speak for the Heart(H) of Love! Bring forth your full Love! Love before there’s not a single echo of humankind’s story.

Will your Love be gentle with those that believed yet cared not for the eartH of Love? Love is all of life, rock and water, air and soil, flesh and soul, two halves, two spirits, two betrothed to the same Love…

May you have your belief for eternity and may it be a belief of only Love for all and everything. The Heart(H) of Love is not for sale. The Heart(H) of Love is not a garbage dump. The Heart(H) of Love is not ours to drain of one more drop from war, from murder, from rape and greed. From humankind’s talons wrapped in murderous cloth, ruthless warriors seeking to conquer instead of care for the eartH of Love. The Heart(H) of Love we know, all you need do is remember.

Love is Love. Love is Peace. Love is Beauty. Love is Life. Love is our greatest mystery. Love needn’t have ever gone undetected. We see Creation at birth and learn that destruction equals death and creation equals life. We caused this devastation and have unwittingly made it our impasse, our blindness, our inability to recognize that Love exists in all of us and so does our implausible failure at recognizing heaven as it is on eartH…

~

Enough for now. I must curl up pray, and then dream next to Love…

We are all, each individually, holders of the keys to the kingdom and we must see this, our gift of eternity, before we succumb to the hell of our making.

Dream next to Love, pray with your hands as open as your Heart(H), weep of those things that you’ve allowed that now bring Love to weep.

Shhhh…

I’m so sorry, Love! I was afraid! I forgot your grace, your Love, your eternal presence in everything I did, everything I imagined, my guilt, my misgivings, my anger and my rage, my twin fears reborn as awareness, I know I’m in heaven.

What did he say?

Heaven’s ours to craft on eartH. What would we shape of Love? A smog ridden planet or a reflection of Love? A truth rests within each of us, a solemn vow with Love. Cherish the eartH of Love, cherish all of life, it is Love’s Love, it is truth.



© 2012 by mark prime


Popular posts from this blog

ROOT OF

"For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs." __1 Timothy 6:10 It is MONEY, not the LOVE of it that is the issue, the true problem. Love, in and of itself, is never a problem, WANT and NEED, or better yet- the WANT and the conundrum of its very REQUIREMENT for our survival IS the problem, it's creation and our blind use of it is logically the ROOT. In other words, let's leave LOVE out of it altogether and deal with the facts instead. If money were not made by us as a requirement for our survival, we'd find ourselves in a much better position to argue of its need and our want of it. MRP Peace and Love © 2015 Mark Richard Prime
........•SHRIEKING MACHINE•........                  •HEAD-LINES•                           •RIP•     ---(“Russian missiles blast Ukrainian military academy and hospital, killing more than 50, officials say”)---    There are no more lessons to learn here, no more beds to hold the human wounded, just missile’s shrieking their grotesque ode, The Death of Humankind! RIP, children of God…    ---(“Hundreds attend Mercer Island vigil, march for murdered Israeli hostages”)---    Dear mourners, this is the brutal vacuum of a genocidal, terror-filled, indiscriminate war-machine made of fear and we are all hostages to its deafening roar! RIP, children of God…    ---(“10-year-old allegedly confesses to fatally shooting 82-year-old man and his daughter”)---    I must confess, this is part of war’s shrieking, children lost with a we...

sdrawkcaB nruT (Turn Backwards)

I have been witness to the four pillars and see no reason to carry death there. Doesn’t the world know that life moves for more than just the sons of Abraham? O! I see the stunned throats floating by in the dusk to their stiff-limbed sleep as metal rains down over the Jordan’s western prophet, children dying there. I am here, waiting, breathing in the dusk under the shadow of the patriarch, asking, can we again build the shrine inside the soul and leave our flesh to time? © 2008 mrp/thepoetryman