FROM WHICH TO PRAY AND REMEMBER

(A bowed head goes a long way in humbling you, Mark Richard Prime…)

My journey into belief’s unknowable unknown has humbled me as possibilities unfolded before me one frame at a time. One frame held all my fears, the others, an eartH like I’d never imagined before.

(Ignorance might well be bliss to some people, but sightlessness is to none.)

I was blind. I had to have been to have missed her beneath me. Oh! The shame in that alone is nearly enough to spin me out of control within this prayer. I see myself as most guilty at having abused Love, both of the flesh and the spirit. Love hadn’t much reason to have whispered her vision inside of me, my sightlessness, my fearfulness of that which I could not know and of that which I never managed to remember…

Let me remember her flesh and her wings, her nectar and her green, let me pray to what I know, no more praying to belief. Just how long did I imagine I could worship my human mind’s unfortunate imagination without ever sensing that it wasn’t the most important thing to Love? Actions, deeds are the grand tests of my Love.

I deemed her Heavenly the second I laid eyes on her, seemingly for the very first time. Her beauty is one of grace and forgiveness and a most loving truth. She calls to me in the darkness through natures opening scene, to the moon’s beams cascading across the green and blue night. Rejoice! Her symphony of sound comes alive now! The whippoorwill comes round, the cricket trembles its sound, the dog yelps in the yard, and the breeze jangles its kiss across my skin- The stars! The stars gaze upon my journey! Love’s light to shine its kingdom upon my joyful countenance. They are sentinels in wait of my sight’s return after far too many years of its absence…

Love can conquer all. Just ask the Mother. Oh! The eartH, how she surely trembles at my human use? How she administers her affections to the craven mouth bent in supplication upon my horribly barren belief in everything but Home…?

The rumble smashes the ceiling of my dream and I catch the shards in my willing hands. They plunge inside my veins and return me to the scene of the Truth. It is noiseless, it has no noise (fear) within its grasp- it is radiant Love.

(Love hasn’t the capacity to fill its caverns with fear, it recognizes it not. It knows nothing but Life, Laughter and Love, it is a Heavenly Home from which to pray and remember…)

© 2012 by the spirits dancing with mark richard prime