It should never have been. She is the Mother that we seek. Beneath the feet writhes Love while our mind and spirit coil in their self-made hell, in agony… asking us where we went wrong? How dare they ask such a thing, I’m a human being for Christ’s sake, for Love’s sake, your sake, for all and every sake? There’s a lot of time for bowing before the things that I know that went wrong, but upon honest heartache, nothing compares…
I needn’t continue this, my quest for the one exactness of Love, yet I’ve need to continue its neverend, its call to the individual me, the me that Mark Richard Prime is, the mere vessel in a test of my will, willed from the graces of Love…
If these words shift on me, and I see I’ve seconds to spare in their fears, I’ll jump ship and swim with Creation’s Love into the mist…
~
The thought of anything but the self, the whole and Home, the eartH of Creation, the Heart of Creation is called for now...
I believe, if someone asks me where I am, I should not escape my responsibility to attempt to know…
(You forget, Mark, that there are few angels left in this world, but you can bet your bottom dollar that they’re as disappointed in your loss as you shall be…)
The earth is about to happen, Life is about to turn into Love, the one thing that has saved her countless lifetimes.
(Love is an instinct…)
Love is the one flood that should always press together my lips in need…
Just a kiss and the eartH is mine to make of it what I will, something good for the Mother …and then we?
What was the question again?
(Does it matter most what you believe or does it matter most what you do?)
So many words tumble down this belief, this whispered truth, sometimes faint and beautiful, sometimes loud and righteous and with nothing but Love…
Instead of believing each and every spirit’s story over another, perhaps I should choose to relish all that have danced through me instead of measuring the dance…
Belief, if waged by the sword, or even by the stone, can never rise above the self into the spirit, and there in lies the journey I willingly took to win my salvation- give Love a hand…
(And there in lies the question of why this happens again and again…?)
The night of December twenty-ninth, 1984 changed my course drastically. I just had to accept it. Agony and brain damage come in all sizes, lifetimes of breadth awash in the universe…
(Where was your love?)
The bird, most flagrant in her heavenly morning song, pipes in to remind me that everything is going to be okay…
There’s not much worry that my belief has taken over, yet it always strives for perfection’s glint and worships what it knows before it ever worships the thing called out by name within the mist of belief…
Through my belief not all things are possible… war, murder, famine, thirst, greed, rape, torture, inequality, profit that profits nothing to the eartH of Creation… all are nowhere to be found. Beyond all else in this dream, breathes my Love…
Take me away songbird! Your delight at my love is enough to bring me round to where I am, where I was matters least, unless I repeat the same tired lie of imagining I know more than the next…
It’s simple really, your belief is yours, I’ve heard it a time or two, but still had to unfasten it so that the eartH would get my bow…
A chill runs down my spine as “It’s amazing!” pierces my lips. Thoughts strangled out the truth of my blind stumbling, corpses filled the graves that hadn’t spirit worth replenishing, children died on the streets from starvation and dis-ease. Problem was, I’d decay of recall, not an inkling of recognition of where I was…
(The Awakening, a reality worth the time it would take to record it, a cabaret of voices crooning from the one spirit, Mother eartH of Creation…)
Experience was able to teach me a lesson- instead of thinking about myself, eartH’s done me one better, she’s given me spare time to create an ending that satisfies all, a lovely angel to watch over the eartH, that she breathes evermore, forever and ever. To defeat such odds I’d have to be superman.
(The self is a wondrous thing, be careful how you use it…)
I imagined the children as truth disguised as innocence…
(That would mean that they knew?)
They likely knew enough …to sit as observers in this universe, not conquerors of it…
In this belief, all are fed and nourished and all and everyone share the burden of truth….
~
Then the child did listen and went off on her little show of innocence’s ballet and I thought I’d love to return to that time on the hill in the tall grass lying on my back staring up in wonder at Creation’s ceaseless love. Staring up in wonder at my mind’s acknowledgement that my life was meant to be like all others, a slow entry wound into the future me. I, instead, chose to be what was due after all of the foul use I produced, and let seep into them a message that I will be back to tell them all again how I came to pass…
If I have anything to offer in this spirited belief, it is that I am a man, through and through, a man that can control his own destiny. These events, and there have been many, have danced and have begged that I reconsider a judgment of their spirits and not just their shells…
Again and again, my empathy brings everything to flowers and I’ve a hard time shutting it off since belief climbed into the driver’s seat…
We seek medicines like they’re the gateway to Love, when the truth of the matter has always been beneath the feet, first, then perhaps out over our heads. An image is just the thing the doctor ordered. I am dancing with Love. I am praying to Love to give me the strength to climb such a mountain without being seen as just another- I didn’t want an echo of a snapshot of the last time I got this far…
I am to my own self true. There is no doubt in that, but what of my kinship? What of the family of man, the beginning of humankind, not the beginning of God?
(Transport to where you are now in your spiritual evolution and let the goodness pour out…)
The less I felt of myself with each beam of Love’s rays I found myself climbing out of something, the eartH brought me to it is all I can imagine as real…
The lesson of “keeping my mouth shut” comes ringing with the traffic. Humankind’s foul noise is getting in the way of hearing her instruction. Oh! She prays like no other, look upon her now, she weeps! She cries out to me with her wind and sun and rain and plant and tree and begs I return a thankful love…
She was a tad out of breath. I could try without missing a step were it not for the recognition that it was a try and not a failure. Nothing can dissuade me from my current path. I am with them as we maneuver this our fated slip, as we steer the loving ship. Choose...
(Choose? Choose what, Mr. Prime, a knife of misery over a life of mystery?)
~
If man continues his quest away from Love then Love shall let them have it and then where will creation be without its eartH to ponder…?
She wore her crown magnificently but her face was not behind it. The mirror she lifted to gaze on my singular self, on all and everything, this ability to live and love without end or suffrage was a mere whisper in my ears…
Again she comes to me and begs that I run this belief its course, that I relinquish all irrational fears and enter without want…
(Want is a funny word. It merely pretends its stature that it might act needy enough to take more than its share…)
I need return to the air a moment and breathe and recall the best circumstances and then leave it to the capable hands of Love…
The birds come in right on cue with the wind that awakes the newest man in me…
I allowed them in. I summoned the best in them. The love in them poured through me from their red-hot games and dour veins giving away to the crystal clear resonance of eartH’s drum, of her symphony and rock band and rapper and hum, shades of the blues and blue grass fused into one another as life intended it to always be…
Catch the thief that’s stolen your love and kindly and lovingly ask for it back, but only after that person sees the world with open eyes. If not, leave it be. Rest knowing that you loved and that was and is all that matters. You can put your flutes and whistles and thumps to sleep, I’m listening to nature. I’ve Natures music behind me, all around me, a distraction from the Muzak of deafness…
There’s not much room for heartache, for feeling I’ve lost everything when I’ve actually gained it all, by the grace of Love go I. How else could its piano change, could it not enhance the dance that sometimes leaves me without song, but with a human mind at work in Love.
Creation will come pleasurably as purveyor of its own Heaven. I’ve left her summoning me at the gate of Love…
(It’s the quietest shrieks that are loudest. They come from truth, a bona fide exactness…)
I just simply want to be the next time around, to be in truth and not in belief…
(They’re identical!)
Yes. But don’t say that too loud it might frighten the young ones…
A most surprising light flashed just now illuminating Love’s desire for me. To just be in my belief, breathe it from every pore, deny no one, infuriate no one, love all.
© 2012 by mark richard prime
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