Facebook @ Mark R. Prime
Love, peace and goodness to you, yours and the (H)eartH...
There are three things. No. There is but one. Truth.
(Why not three?)
There can be but one exactness to explain all of this.
(But what did you mean by three?)
It was a mistake.
(Then why did you leave it in?)
It was done. I thought it best to seek it further after some time had passed.
(You are an enigma, my child.)
No. You’re the enigma.
Absolutely. Anyone will tell you that your mystery far surpasses anything this mere mortal has ever had to offer.
I just might be dreadfully wrong. I mean who am I to say that I’m not insane?
(You’re the only one. Words jump from your fingers as if they’re escaping your uncertainty. It’s not rocket science, Mark.)
I know. It’s eartH science.
(Good of you to have remembered.)
She is my Love. I will not forsake her. My original vow in the spirit and the first promise I remembered to keep in the flesh are the two I hold above all else, the eartH of Love and my Love on the eartH.
I’d thank the spirit(s) who had me write that, but they’re the enigma you spoke of. I cannot know them, I can only believe in them beyond a shadow of any doubt, and then do all in my power to memorize their loving instruction.
(What is your dream, my child?)
(Is that all?)
In my belief there needn’t be anything else I should concern myself with?
I pray through the spirit. The spirit, I imagine, carries belief to Exactness in a matter of time- Such a fouled human concept is time. The spirit gives my belief over to the one Exactness, the one Truth, to decide if it’s worthy. I wouldn’t know, for I know nothing, really, but I believe it to be true. I believe much and know very little.
(Do you know that eternity is within your grasp, Mark Richard Prime?)
Yes. Precisely why it is paramount that I and the spirit(s) assure that my imagined neverend be one of nothing less than Love…
(You’re full of good points this morning, croons the morning angels with their flattering song. Your belief is your own. Your reality is that of the whole. )
Yes. Who am I to say what another desires of eternity? I haven’t the right to imagine for another, belief is between the believer and the one exactness…
When I first began my journey, I found myself in a hurry, rushing my belief against the edges of my tongue and having some nonsense fall out. Everything was backwards, I had no belief to speak of when it came to Love, look at how I treated the eartH, look at what I’ve done for the eartH of Love and perhaps even Heaven? Who would desire that I, Mark Richard Prime, be guardian of their belief?
(Good point. It is as it should be, for you are only keeper of your personal belief, no one else’s…)
Believe me, there are those around that can attest to my errant tongue, for I was merely bursting at the seams with a newfound and loving belief and meant no ill will toward another belief of the one exactness, I simply found myself filled with spirits that were determined to deliver an extraordinary Love. I was merely the vessel, the mouthpiece.
(I thought you said you danced with all of those many spirits and formed a belief from out of their and your ballet, that it is was not just your belief, but everyone’s?)
Who am I to say? I still believed I danced with the countless spirits. They were and are my friends and acquaintances, my family. They were those that I imagined had most sought the entrance to eternity’s gate.
(The meek indeed inherit the eartH, eh?)
Perhaps, I don’t know, I simply believe it beyond the shadow of any doubt.
(Which makes it true to you.)
It certainly makes me imagine it is. I still haven’t one smidgen of a clue if my thoughts, my dreams, are anywhere near the one exactness, I mean it’d be foolhardy to imagine I knew anymore than the next. …I desire only Love. I haven’t need for much else…
When I first began to remember my journey, I had too much fear to cleanse from my thoughts, too much dread from the guilt of what I had done with my living and had wrought upon the loving spirit in my conscious and unconscious existence. Once I began to open my eyes to the extraordinary, I found myself wrapped within Love’s embrace, found myself bending with sorrowful prayer and with an unexpected belief piercing my lips…
Where Love moved me forward, fear did set me back. Where the (H)eartH called out, dread held my legs and tripped up any chance of the breath of my belief pouring out of me like a fool. Had that happened, at least according to what I believe, I alone would have ruined any possibility of my belief being favored by Creation. (Pride, after all, still goeth before the fall.) Besides, this belief, in my belief, isn’t only mine to do with as I please, it is the Spirit’s. The Spirit orchestrates its symphony upon the pathway of Love, I’m merely a passenger on the mystery train of exactness…
The wind strums its strings across my brow and I’m suddenly aware of the eartH, the thing beneath my feet, which I, for most of my conscious life, managed to ignore. The reminders are many that I might hold the memory of my reason for being and cherish what I know long before I begin to cherish what I don’t and can’t at this stage in my journey…
These words and the wind and the dog’s howling their exactness and the birds warbling of Love I try to memorize, that I might then reap what I alone have sown from out of my belief in them.
(Having a belief is one thing, having your belief sit in judgment of all others is Fear, not Love…)
Harmony is my goal. Peace is, in my belief, what Creation desires of me, for true peace has no opponent…
(Is peace even possible?)
Depends on your definition of peace I suppose. I define peace as nothing less than Love.
(How do you know if that is true?)
I don’t. I cannot know. I can only dream of knowing, only pray that my belief is worthy of Creation’s exactness, anything more than that, I leave to fate. I give my belief over to Love and hope she finds it favorable. It’s essentially in my hands to believe, yet out of them to know anything beyond what is known. I hope the unknowable surprises me, I hope my belief surprises the unknowable...
(Does the wind mean something to you?)
(What of the water, plant and tree, the mountain, river and stream and the soil and air, the ocean and the sea?)
I’m sorry. I thought it was a yes or no question.
(There’s no such thing…)
The traffic seems muted this morning. It sounds as if it is, thankfully, failing to conquer sound, as if it’s failing to summon noise to rein as king over the sovereign ground. Noise, in my belief, cannot defeat sound. The rush of the wind, the bird and her trill, the wolf and its howl, the water and its ripple and the silence of the universe in constant flux overhead, are, as far as I am able to discern, natural sounds. It is humankind’s jackhammer existence that’s forgotten her whispers, ignored her eartHfelt pleas and made themselves into a deafening nuisance…
End all war! End murder, rape and genocide! End my resolve to a self-induced suicide! Fold my wings outward and take flight, but never forget the eartH of Love. She is my only known beholden. She asks that I worship her water, her soil and her trees. She begs of me to remove all traces of my foul use that I might yet again breathe her sweet air…
The evermore is up to Love and God…