I believe the truth exists in a frame, or so this mortal mind instructs me. The truth is eternal, for what else could it be, limited or limitless, narrow or endlessly wide?
(Exactness evermore.)
Indeed the mystery is beyond my flesh and blood, likely in a spiritual reality that takes the breath away and replaces it with the loving spirit until the curtain drops on this immortal story.
(It never ends?)
I doubt it, I don’t actually know, as I’ve mentioned a time or two. Maybe it goes on forever for some and eversleep falls over the rest. No suffering, none in the after-death, the soil that gives back freely asking nothing in return. The meek shall inherit the living soil and return as a rose or an oak or a river or a plant, the possibilities are infinite, one life after another, without thought, without suffering, without pain, without memory, save for the spirits of the eartH of God and Love and Life everlasting…
(Might there be more?)
More? How could there be more than everlasting Life?
(Your belief, remember?)
Eternal life in bliss, but isn’t eternal bliss relative to what my creation contributes to Life, eartH and Love?
(I suppose it is. Yes.)
Suppose all I want still doesn’t shed any light on the one exactness.
(Why even try and know if it is unknowable?)
Belief.
(Believe all you want, Mark Richard Prime, but if you’re not cherishing that which you know, you’re cutting away at Love.)
I believe that I am a human animal and I am Love, through and through, full Love as was intended. If an animal, full Love is all you’ll be, if you are not animal, full Love already has, or soon will, encompass the spirit evermore…
(Love shall never be defeated by the likes of fear. Whatever made you imagine otherwise?)
Belief.
(No. Not belief alone. You can’t help but believe in something, you’re wired that way, or at least you were.)
Could the next stage be “knowing” my purpose for being? What shall I do with truth, suffocate it like I did belief?
(Silence…)
Knowing my purpose is a question that must be considered if I am to inherit human exactness. I don’t know anything. I don’t. I chose Love and it is she that knows eternity.
(And you’re just her servant who’s afraid to speak out on her behalf, Mark.)
I’m not afraid. I’m preparing for a loving belief. I’m waiting for confirmation from the eartH that I might speak freely and bring her plea to the surface, the soil, the water, the forests and the plains, so that I might pray upon my knees for this world’s much needed rain.
(Believe in what you will, Mark Richard Prime, but you must begin to act for that which you know before time runs out!)
Time is manmade.
(Yes. And inaction is your most persistent pattern, that, and fear, but there I go repeating myself…)
Fear is the hobbled emotion that turns prayer inward and summons the least of the self, self seeking death through its sights…
(Silence…)
Is something going to happen?
(I imagine. It always does.)
No it doesn’t.
(Tell that to Life…)
Life is in constant flux and man has dreamed up many inconsistent ends to his fate, but none seemed to favor full Love.
(Forget the sacrifice, the battles and the transgressions, and remember only Love. No pain, no death, and no uncertainty, just Exactness and Love.)
The wind pushes past our frames as my lovely angel Love and I pray without a word… beneath the stars. Silence soon saturates our thoughts and we fall away…
(Silence…)
Peace, Love and Goodness to you, yours and the eartH.
© 2012 by mark richard prime
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