(Photo by my love, Michelle)
THESE WORDS ARE MY BELIEF, EVERY WORD I'VE EVER WRITTEN HERE IS MERELY MY BELIEF, MY THOUGHTS, AND NOTHING MORE, CERTAINLY NOT MEANT AS A DOCTRINE OF ANY KIND. MY LANGUAGE USE OF “YOU” AND “THEY” AND “WE”, WAS IN ERROR, IT WAS MY EXPERIENCE AND MY BELIEF, I SHOULD NEVER HAVE ASSUMED I KNEW DIDDLY SQUAT, FOR I DO NOT. (I SHOULD TRUST MORE AND IMAGINE LESS...)
I needn’t do it with pride. Pride makes me think of myself too often and my “self” is nothing without love.
I do it because I truly believe it. Instead of summoning Armageddon, I must call forth love’s most stunning affections and laughter before my eyes close, never to open again.
Reverse course before I lose my reason for having been a child of love.
I live. I love. I am. I live. I love. I am. Rinse and repeat.
I must challenge my thinking before I challenge love’s as I move over the shattered and dismal streets!
And once I feel I’ve made my belief most beautiful and loving, and feel my thoughts have arrived home, I must challenge myself again and then again...
Animal instinct will tell me if I’m near enough to be safe.
Mine tell me that ever since I was slammed unconscious, it’s all been programmed in, yet, it’s still been up to me.
I’ve had enough of not remembering another’s love! Enough of forgetting that purpose comes not from above, but from deep inside the core of who I was before, before I began to think, before I began to breathe, a child of love, I should care for the eartth first, because love can take care of itself!
I believe that I am one with love, as I imagine everything on the earth is. I’ve no need for someone to tell me otherwise through stories or songs or words, doing so has made me fearfully absurd!
Am I love?
(Long pause.)
Why did I pause after that question? Why? Did I imagine I deserved an answer after the way I’ve impolitely behaved? Do I even deserve an answer after draining the earth of love with all the silly thought’s that I have made?
Love, according to what this mortal man has imagined, has had enough. Enough of my foul want upon the her ground. Enough. I believe love’s had enough of my screams of rage, love’s had enough of my foul use of the one thing I never knew or hadn't sought with very little affection and far too much thought!
I’ve been me all along. Love’s been present, too, but not me. It is I that had been missing with my thinking wits! Love’s been waiting on this child to figure out his seat, yet I was busy making noise and couldn’t hear love’s heartbeat! I must stop the incessant noise, inside and out, and look to love to end my agony eternally that I might then always smile upon another as the goodness I’m meant to be.
Rejoice! It’s up to me where my world begins and ends! Thought up in reverse is why my belief hasn't been known. Pity and self and want instead of home and heart and love, one in the same to me, instead of where my thoughts should have flown!
I’ve been here all along, the learning grounds of home, but that’s for love to know and me to imagine and I’d "imagine" that makes love smile over what I had been doing, believing in such things that are counter to love.
But, I don’t know, I simply believe. I can't believe that I alone imagined that I knew one damn thing without having sought love first, shame on me. If what I imagined pleased the earth of love first, I'd have not used my thoughts to make things worse.
Brain damage? Maybe I’m just fouled without a clue and only imagine. Truly I can’t possibly know. Either way, it's time.
Time?
Where are time’s love and life, time's fear and death? I've been a fool imagining truth without ever searching for it. Love found me, at least that’s what I tell myself.
© 2012 by mark richard prime
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