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The Ash in the HeartH of Love


These words are not just mine, the many spirits I dance with have brought them to me from love and you and you and you and you and I'm ready to bring love full ground. The truth isn’t the easiest thing for man to grasp. Within humankind’s belief the mind shuts down, it goes blank with our need to end things, to put a period on things. Why have an end to any belief as if it is somehow knowable?

Belief is all I'm supposed to need or want, but belief in the truth of love. I can no more separate myself, my friends or cousins, brothers, sisters, mother, father, family of man, despite what I've allowed to enter with stilts made of children’s bones, innocent bones, guilty bones, bones of man, man, woman and child, all life that I've take for granted.

Life belongs not to me, it belongs to love. It is not mine, my soul is no more important to life than the tree or the soil or the air or the water, they’ve spirit. Love is present in them, the water, the air and the soil. To me, love is unknown until we search for the self and in doing so realize who, what and where I am. Angel, steward, home- the ash upon the earth of love, the residue from the “myself” to the self, who I am, the self that I was born, a child of love and, since I'm love’s child, I am born of love. (An immersive compound, triggered at birth and again at death, lets one know that love is with us, not merely for years or decades or millennia, but evermore.)

Echo…


© 2012 by mark richard prime


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