With the Grace Everyone Expected

The silence came when I turned off the car…“

Y” stands for “Yes”. Yes?

What do you want the formation to stand for?

Yes.

Then it does.

Yes. I imagine then, that the game is afoot, or I’m a fearful and flailing beast.

Stop! You are not flailing, nor are you a beast.

Then I'm fearful. There is no removal of all of my instincts, the fear is only from things I haven’t imagined. It’s much less severe than when I searched for truth…

Friends will be hard to come by if you sometimes imagine them foes. Love is what will open your eyes to paradise and grant you more brothers and sisters and more love than you ever thought possible. Believe in what you know and be careful of what you imagine of love.

The traffic pulls at my fears unfolding around my belief. Surely I see that I'm meant to believe, and surely I know that my beliefs are becoming my fate, my love and my rage, my peace and my war, my life and my death, my paradise and my agony?

You are meant to believe and be aware of truth. Not of man's stories, but of love...

~

You’ve not handled yourself with the grace everyone expected.

Grace? What of honesty? Maybe I’m oblivious to something and therein lies my belief? I seem to have been unconscious to the truth, unaware of where I was.

If all animals were that oblivious, they’d have been slaughtered long ago from the pace found in humankind’s foul use.

The traffic echoing along 540 sounds awful, the night sky is divinely risen with love in its bosom. Magnificent! The street lamps bend at the waist in a hideous yellow housecoat and the neck of love bids its lips to my ear, welcome home…

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

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SKYFALL

Skyfall... We continue to play along with an unnatural game that has serious consequences, soon we'll find ourselves enslaved without recourse to the system. (Is that true of local charades?) Yes. (Why can't we free ourselves from the system?) The madness of money. (It's not money, it's people, right?) It's both, money and us in tandem, thus assuring money's might and our adherance to its loudness. (Madness...) Indeed. © 2017 Mark Richard Prime

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THE ROCK HOLDS

The rock holds the soil in and from the soil springs the tree, the green of LIFE rolling from the blue, rising to the occasion of itself. . “Be!”, the (H)eartH declares, “Be what you are!” . (We thought we were!) . (We think we are!) . “You are, but not freely, therefore, only a thought, and a thought without much thinking, as if you were scared into it.”, the (H)eartH added. . [a quietude begins, the truth being heard and heeded, grooving to the flow] ~ © 2017 Mark Richard Prime

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CONFESSION ZERO

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