Is there a sunrise that brings with it, truth? Is there a dawn set to cascade across my instinct and within its hands a most recent painting of Love…?
Have I been challenged because I challenged Love, and then myself?
(Are they not the same, Love and the sum total of the self?)
They’re not what I ever imagined. Who I am is a child of Love, joy, hope, freedom, happiness, all with a ruddy cheek…
Am I just now waking up from a coma? Have I truly slept such a long time? It feels as if I have no past, which means I have no history, void of Love’s dance, emptied of any true purpose…
Once I began to stumble upon the one spirit’s beginning, I sensed I’d been climbing ever since toward a great, unknowable reason…
The bird chimes in against the jagged path that’s lined in clacking teeth.
The wind whispers its lips to Love’s eartH.
The water her song lain down long before the awe of her evermore.
All and everyone! A universe of life! Our own individual persons, who we are (and that we’re set to self-destruct)…
Why the hesitation, insufficient belief? Believing in a belief is a bit problematic; you may cause yourself to have never existed.
(That’s preposterous on its face!)
I suppose it does sound unbelievable, yes. Yet, am I not supposed to breathe? Am I not supposed to be a steward for her, supposed to be Love, supposed to be…?
If I am to be, I must do so without arrogance of place, without pride filling my teeth, the makeshift masks of clacking madness…
(What does that mean?)
Do so with love and I’ll have no need for the self, save for the act of being grateful- humble, joyful, mindful, thankful and with love at full…
The interstate drones beneath the eartH’s symphony, and I imagine I’ve a tambourine to jangle to this familiar tune that the world seems to be singing, the eartH’s aria! Let me shelter my eyes no more! Let me take action on her behalf! Let me rescue Mother, Grandmother and Great Grandmother!
Let me pray I do…
~
The sun is shining on the black and tan coat she wears like a miniature loving beast. The sun is shining upon our journey, the moon is spread upon our rest, and we need be casting our prayers upon the eartH, gratefulness showering her in full worship…
I’m bringing my love, not my fear, not my wars, not my murder, not my greed! I am toting love up the mountains and the air and down to the rivers, lakes and streams, valleys, plains oceans and seas!
(If you would speak, do so anon! Haven’t you sufficient cause to cleanse her shores, her all? Have you completely lost any love for The Mother? Love begins in you as the instinct to know the truth, one truth in the many of thought…)
Add them together.
(Love, loving thoughts, loving ideas, and the loving truth spills out in pain and confusion, beneath the rage and anger, over the belief’s delusions and into the eartH of God.)
Thoughts, ideas, hatred and greed and raging wars are felt most by Creation.
(Yes.)
~
I do not believe that I am the way, the truth or the life. I’ve not the right to be. I am a mere vessel for Love’s encouragement, as all stewards are intended…
Since Heaven is my Home in my belief, I need send my prayers to the eartH of Love…
The Heart of the matter, the truth, as far as I’m able to discern, is that the eartH is my only known beholden and all the rest is belief…
End all wars, murder, greed, reckless propagation, limited imaginings and tragic suicide by lethal rejection…
(Then pray for Love, for the eartH of Creation, for her release from your use and for your use to fade with all of your self-made suffering, pray, Mark Richard Prime!)
Peace, love and goodness to you, yours and the eartH of Creation…
(Noise…)
The traffic sounds ominous, like a phantom gouging blindness into spirit’s seeking peace and Love. The birds’ melancholic warble within their trebled harmony has me enraptured. The birds sing for thee and for me, echoing their love of the eartH like winged angels stroking the sky’s evening strings…
© 2012 by mark richard prime
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