Skip to main content

5.19.12 THE HEART REQUIRES LOVE


There’s another side to all of this, and I’ve nearly removed it wholly of its use from my belief. Fear is a monster unlike any other when attached to the spirit. The spirit ushered ME in and opened my eyes to where it delivered my body. The flipside of that was just too much for me to bear. End all wars! Cease the murder of life, love and Creation! Do not forsake another, do not rape, plunder or sack another, instead reach out with full Love and let them see me as understanding their suffering and inform them that I’m (t)here for them.

(What of that which is of want?)

After full love is complete, there’ll be no want for anything, all will be manifest. Why would I want for anything when I can create a loving Heaven instead of a living Hell?

(ping)

(Echo…)

Again, Mark Richard Prime, lest Heaven bloom before you’ve chance to recognize where you are, there will be only suffering another turn on the wheel, another lifetime of not knowing.

If I believe it is Heaven, then it shall be Heaven. It’ll be exactness to me if I’ll but recognize Home when I see it. If I mock the idea of the eartH as Home and Heaven or mock another’s belief, then it is I that descends into my belief…

*~*

Timing is valued to me, but then, so is a lack of suffering for anyone and all and anything. The heart requires Love in order to create eternal bliss. Why then would I not say I am Love and do away with any and all fear? Fear hasn’t a place where I’m set to be...

I want this to go on, yet I know it can’t, there comes a time in belief where I’ll have to give it over to Creation.

(Does that mean you’ll sit around praying about it and let it be, or does that mean you might go all Winter’s Bone on us?)

I’m not even sure what that means… but I’ll pray and I’ll send it to Love, what happens to it and to me after that, is not for me to imagine…

(I would never have imagined Mark Richard Prime saying anything that carried full Love.)

My wedding vows.

(How so?)

The vows were the first remembrance of who I had become, held up to who I am.

(There’s lot’s of hard work ahead for you my friend.)

Yes. The vow was my first step out of the hell of my own creation. I'm well on my way…

(You could go back to your college days and have a field day swimming again with all of the spirits you infected and ingested- the good and the bad, the tears and the laughter, the love and the fear, the warring and the peaceful. A field day, I tell ya!)

I’d have many a frequent dance to return that’s for sure. A dance with all of the love and joy I stole from the unsuspecting and even with those that imagined they knew me. I can’t know, because then I’d be reacting from what I know instead of what I believe, and you can’t tell me because then you might sound crazy and, if neither of us acts, she’s likely to go belly up on us.

*~*

There’s a lesson in accepting where you are and the contentment with the known. So many lessons disguised as fate destined to be learned from and then poured forth with full Love. Everything’s going to be okay is the reassurance. If I can but let it swim beneath the surface and flourish in my belief, there’ll be no need for any reassurance…

Time to go in and wind down when foul noise begins its dance, unless, that is, if one has been writing in restaurants all of their life or writing where man’s fouled noises clang throughout.

(Silence…)

Sleep calls again.

(The wind waves its arms to guide me in evermore…)

Peace, Love and Goodness be with you, yours, the eartH, all and everything…

(An ever-evolving belief is tiresome.)

Sleep.

(Motion will come to you without a moment to lose, its how motion seems to roll…)

Silence...


© 2012 by mark richard prime


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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
........•SHRIEKING MACHINE•........                  •HEAD-LINES•                           •RIP•     ---(“Russian missiles blast Ukrainian military academy and hospital, killing more than 50, officials say”)---    There are no more lessons to learn here, no more beds to hold the human wounded, just missile’s shrieking their grotesque ode, The Death of Humankind! RIP, children of God…    ---(“Hundreds attend Mercer Island vigil, march for murdered Israeli hostages”)---    Dear mourners, this is the brutal vacuum of a genocidal, terror-filled, indiscriminate war-machine made of fear and we are all hostages to its deafening roar! RIP, children of God…    ---(“10-year-old allegedly confesses to fatally shooting 82-year-old man and his daughter”)---    I must confess, this is part of war’s shrieking, children lost with a we...

Waiting for It

Why do they stay there, between war and peace? Sky’s tapestry doles out guns, bombs and rocks while flesh and bone swim away from the ache yet live on as the food for the murder of peace. Why do we hide from the truth as if it were an ogre while death makes a home inside their living and war dispatches a raven to their door, smirking with the teeth of empire? Why do we wait, stooped for another wink? The sky’s drapery has tossed down ample clues, peace is breathing in harmony with war. (Road-maps are useless to blind leaders.) Why do they hold there, hunched in the gloom? Hatred’s bird cackling with bereavement needs end. Are we not rightly dishonored when we fill its trough with blood? © 2007 mrp/thepoetryman