Why do you test me, as if I could ever forget the lessons learned in this dream, this life, this inexplicable existence…?
(But you have forgotten these lessons time and time again, Mark Richard Prime, lifetimes of forgetting who you are and where you stood. Begin anew your quest, and each shall evermore reap the love that was sewn.)
The love shown to Home needs something to keep it from tipping off the edge and down into a useless pile of failed me’s. If I do not begin to cure the earth of human dis-ease, the love of Heaven will bring her booming remedy, eradication of the self at the hand of the self, suicide by connection...
(Do not stiffen your limbs with unimaginables or chatter or have your teeth like a mindful zombie, doomed to repeat it over and over and over and each time fail to recognize where you are and forget that it is essential to Heaven, essential to where you are, is where you were, or you might let slip her disappointment in your failure to remember her, the eartH of Creation. )
Remembering is essential and there are spiritual medicines for never forgetting. It’s hard enough just remembering to remember which one I am. One would think that where I am, Heaven, would be more evident than what I’d aided in making it appear to be…
The droning whir of a big truck on the bypass draws my attention away and I pay close attention to the night sounds mystic entry. They beg that I listen. They plead that I begin to love, the full cacophony of sweet whispers. Humankind is the last creature that one would imagine destroying heaven, the sin belongs to the collective spirit. The one truth, if I want this to be my eternal life again and again, I must wipe all forms of hell from my memory and all sign of my wanton footprint upon the eartH, then I can reflect upon where I am...
Alternatives seem bleak in this dream of mine. Perhaps they are ready to throw in the towel? Not I! I will return to this place deemed Heaven. When I die, I can sleep knowing that I would remember my lifetimes of joy and not my lifetimes of heaven and hell being used for profit to keep humankind in agony, believing all the while they’re set to enter the gates of Heaven...
As luck would have it, the eartH’s exactly where I’ll commence. Why would a child be born outside of the perfection of Creation’s (H)eartH? Perfection should have remained within my grasp. Return to Love, my friends. Return my spirit to Creation. Forget my flesh and forget my grasp at things that drain The Mother of her long and suffering Love. Her sacrifice is too great and I need mend her flesh, her water, her air and remain my loving gestures and my laughter and music and song and all good things born out of meaningful and loving thought, the rest is taken away allowing me to recall the medicine song that deemed that my spirit was in Heaven while my flesh was within my self-made Hell, my fears…
(Doctor eartH, you’re needed in the emergency room! All stewards on deck! She’s hemorrhaging and set to roll over!)
(Silence…)
Return the eartH of Creation to her rightful self, and there’s no need to worry of hell, because you’ll be in Heaven…
The truth lies within me, and I believe I found it. My instinct’s just eroded completely away, giving me lifetimes of what I believed that I might then go on forgetting who I am, what I am and where I am. It’s a vicious circle that’s spinning around within all of humankind’s ideas, bright and dim and even those idiotically horrific. They were the best my humankind could conjure? Look what belief is doing, an earth in ruins because of man’s god-fouled thinking! The manmade waste clogging her pores must be reason enough to change this unkindly course? But there were so many humans that we couldn’t see the Love from the beliefs and belief seemed to be causing more Fear than Love…
Now is the time. Yes. Now rings its note to me as I slip away for a dance. I feel Heaven rising within me, I sense her beneath my feet. (She was suffering from the weight of humankind’s paws and I began to listen…
The traffic chimes in with a roar and I am prepared to listen to only the sounds of the eartH’s rhythm, her sounds of life and love, her water without toxins of any kind, return it to Creation’s nectar…
I suppose GodLove knows I’ve nearly had enough of my constant battle with my fears, a serious failing if there ever was one, unless I landed where my belief allowed me?
(That’s nuts!)
What choice did I have, I imagined I was talking with God, not to God. The difference is palpable. If I imagine I know what the endgame is, I’m full of misery, without a lick of Heaven.
(Bow to her, she’s had enough of your only thinking of God and not GodLove…)
It is so simple that nearly all animals with half a brain can easily understand. Don’t stand there looking all zombielike, get busy! She still writhes as Ibludgeon her with beliefs that leave the eartH of Creation vulnerable to cruelty, to gluttony, to suicide by willful blindness and stupidity…
(That was pretty harsh!)
Yes.
(Remember…)
Yes.
(ping)
What’s next?
(One o’clock.)
And what dreams have you in store?
(Depends on what I faced in my waking. For me, at this stage in my journey, they’re all dreams filled with love…)
One birdsong stares down the drone-way of traffic and soars above all foul noise and whispers sweet Truth of Love into my expectant ears…
(She waits your returning memories that you might stroke her brow and offer her your services and render Heaven joyous again…)
~
Dear brothers and sisters, may you take the island by storm and love find you laughing…
Peace, love and goodness unto you, yours and the world…
© 2012 by mark richard prime
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