Oh! Dear Grandfather! What are we to do with your wisdom if we seek your mountain not? What of your bride, your eternal (H)eartH. We’ve a heart, we’ve a beat or two left, if Love will grant it…
(The bells toll in the distance and the weeping willow comes to with the splash of Love’s rain and the slap of God’s wind. She is all instruments. She is all. Love and God united evermore.)
The heart is the most vital of organs, the Mother made man in life’s image as an ode to her Love. I’ll see them again. Life is eternal, yet ever changing, evolving if you will…
(Humankind, individual entities, you can no more know that your belief is truth than you can know the instructions of Love and God.)
And we’ve wed ourselves to one belief, one storyline out of billions. Soon we’ll find we’ve not much wind left for another.
(And another emerges, the one you should never have forgotten…)
© 2012 by mark richard prime
Comments
Post a Comment