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GOD’S THREADBARE WHISPER



She looks thinner. Limbs, hanging on by a threadbare whisper, and with a slight rustle and a loving grace she soars.

(Listen to her prayer. Heed her tongue crackling with sorrow, she begs for you to see! )

She does not long for me to fail her. Fail Love, fail God, fail Creation, fail Grandmother, fail Grandfather, fail.

(Laughter’s etched with your name on her skin like a tattoo engraved by God. Wear it proudly. Wear it lovingly. Wear it.)

I cannot forgo the truth.

(She looks ill with man’s use. She seems to be nearing her tolerance.
Oh! Prop open your eyes by ceasing the noise found in your machines!
The greatest invention ever imagined remains the heart of God, his bride, an eternal eartH.)

The truth tarries not, the truth does not hold her tongue, she speaks plainly- rumble, quake, groan- she loves without condition save that I- boom, rattle, thump and echo- love, love, love, love…



© 2012 by mark richard prime


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