Fear is the death knell to love. Fear runs through the blood like a madman with a machete! A machete? Did someone say machete? …Careful, now, fear runs rampant on the playgrounds of war.
(You’ve nothing to fear, but yourselves.)
Crash the party trumpet with your tap-tap-tappety-tap on the spine of Creation! Guitar strum me some melancholy tune for my arrival, then bring me soaring! You too piano! Jump in tambourine! Hey, Fiddle? Resurrect my soul that I might dance and solve this riddle! Soak my veins in God, cello! Sling me inside the mouth of all things sacred, didgeridoo!
(You got to be a witchdoctor to have such hands. You got to be God to perform the miracles you do. Pray me out of this dream! )
Drenched in sweat I see her before me, wings high above her shoulders, eyes the color of Creation, the heart of an angel, Love. She had again returned to me. She guided her heart to mine and we danced along the pathway.
(There are no meadows here.)
The ice will come again as a blanket for the Willow, the snow will come again as winter’s sleep, the rain will come again as a baptism to truth, and her quake will come again to create herself anew.
(What of humankind?)
I don’t know, anything’s possible... if we’ll but choose Love and Peace.
© 2012 by mark richard prime
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