Skip to main content

OFTEN SILENT OF THINGS THAT I CANNOT POSSIBLY KNOW


I believe that the idea behind belief is for me to remain silent of things that I cannot possibly know, only those things that shower delight upon the fullness of Love, the Great-Grandmother, and the planet eartH, simultaneously, do I believe have the ability to foster any favor with the one Exactness…

I don’t know. I believe, therefore I imagine I know, yet it is most unknowable according to the last phase and my take on the actions of humankind. Let us hope the future looks brighter from the results of our misuse…

If I had ever known just one other that fit the mold of Creation’s frame, I may have said, “Hey, there’s the fullness of Love and Creation, see their silence, isn’t it most loving?”

(A picture paints a thousand unspoken words…)

Action soars over the weakness found in prayers. If they know not where they are as their lips draw breath in prayer, they know not…

This dance is most thrilling when the wind caresses me with its pleasure and the sun and moon and wonder of nature surround me like the most loving and welcome embrace…

The birdsong captured my dreams attention and she surrounded me with melancholy for the role I played in her care…

They came to my rescue. The fears in them were righteous. They held favor to her reach and they aligned my descent upon the grounds of the eartH of Life and Love.

(Might the Heart be Creation and Love be the eartH? Might this whole belief thing be set to becoming a thing of your most recent past?)

If the suffering has been a game and there are spirits around that want only Love to rule the day, then by all means show yourself, speak up and announce yourself lovingly to the powers that be and begin to wash your hands of a fearful collusion…

Was Love not sufficient to you, brother, sister, neighbor, friend? Did I not offer you my Love? It was you that received it and saw a boondoggle for a most profitable indifference…

If I am born to be Love and am of Creation, am I not betrothed to them both?

(Humankind has come unfettered the ship and is adrift in the hell they’ve accepted. Belief is most precious. See to it that you treat the eartH of Love as it is the only Love of humankind’s knowable reality…)

The wind, the wind, the winding wind…

(Action is required, which means that a call must be sent forth that the whole might recognize humankind’s sacred duty and begin...)

What will happen? There is no “what if” in Love. I am at a crossroads, here. Love might not have any “what ifs” like that of belief, but, when crafting a loving belief out of nothing but Love, it should…

I have imagined and believed this with help from the spirits along my way, and for that I am most grateful and humbled beyond my years…

(Love dances over the traffic’s reverb, and loving prayer, without provocation, it arrives when it becomes an action verb…)

Yes, dear spirit. Be in motion, for it creates Love. It holds Love dearest, does creating, for without Creation’s Love, I’d not be imagining at all…

(Why do you imagine there’s more than meets the eye?)

Because I can sense it and believe it…


© 2012 by the spirits dancing with mark richard prime


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

sdrawkcaB nruT (Turn Backwards)

I have been witness to the four pillars and see no reason to carry death there. Doesn’t the world know that life moves for more than just the sons of Abraham? O! I see the stunned throats floating by in the dusk to their stiff-limbed sleep as metal rains down over the Jordan’s western prophet, children dying there. I am here, waiting, breathing in the dusk under the shadow of the patriarch, asking, can we again build the shrine inside the soul and leave our flesh to time? © 2008 mrp/thepoetryman

Waiting for It

Why do they stay there, between war and peace? Sky’s tapestry doles out guns, bombs and rocks while flesh and bone swim away from the ache yet live on as the food for the murder of peace. Why do we hide from the truth as if it were an ogre while death makes a home inside their living and war dispatches a raven to their door, smirking with the teeth of empire? Why do we wait, stooped for another wink? The sky’s drapery has tossed down ample clues, peace is breathing in harmony with war. (Road-maps are useless to blind leaders.) Why do they hold there, hunched in the gloom? Hatred’s bird cackling with bereavement needs end. Are we not rightly dishonored when we fill its trough with blood? © 2007 mrp/thepoetryman

Laughter's Grip

They asked me to wait. To wait for God to come laughing, wait on His voice to destroy the golden temples of man, hold my tongue until His powerful breath was upon me, and from His loving casualties I’d at last know the Savior. They asked me to wait. To wait for God to come laughing, wait for His followers to die away their persuasive babble and the murder of Islam to breach the walls of the earth as the many damned souls drowned under holy laughter. “O! The Lord God is looming! On his way with God’s wrath! We are to take up swords and send evil howling back to die their well deserved and slow death! Their faces popped and spattered these words as they fell back, caught in His fiery presence, twisting their tongues into drivel and thrashing their minds in the glory of an Eden unlike any other. And then the snake planted his venom through the laughter of their gyrating madness. Tears emptied their pockets, spirits came crashing , and the anointed rapture of their making grew tire...