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Love, peace and goodness to you, yours and the (H)eartH...
(The darkness cannot hide forever from the light of Love.)
The first thought of my long prayer is generally penned without hesitation, but lately I’ve found myself gazing at a new translation. It is not as confusing as it used to be, this dance with the many spirits that groove to the one moving through the eartH and within her many veins.
The breeze summons its chill to stumble across my spine and heavenward tumble me Home…
(The sun steals its shadows. War filches its affections, the sun blanches…)
Beauty is in the eye and spirit of the beholder…
(Look at her, Mark Richard Prime! Though you've done her grave injury, she loves you still. Though you’ve imagined yourself king, you’ve, at long last, noticed you've a queen…)
The reasons I vanquished my fear are actually rather simple, belief in them seemed frivolous after stumbling, quite literally, upon a most Heavenly Home.
(The HeartH is where the Heart(H) and the (H)eartH is…)
The loving spirit chooses my course. Love I leave to select my affection from the many that they might ascend to her side and demand more of my self than that of another thing or another spirit.
In the end they all came down to one, the fullness of Love’s spirit. All paths led to Love, some just required what seemed to be too great a sacrifice, too much suffering along the way, so I imagined a loving neverend to this my journey, an eternity with Love…
When (if) the veil is lifted on a permanent basis it will float above me with an assurance that it is indeed the will of Love and God…
(The will can be a tricky thing, for once you landed in Heaven and the newfound spirits began their warble of Love, Mark Richard Prime, you found yourself in a whole heap of ghosts instead of loving spirits. …Ghosts are not meant to be held on to, they’re meant to be let go of.)
The crow cackles its ingestion in the form of an unanswered question, it lands on my lap and strums a rat-a-tat-tat across my stomach and unchains the fearful spirit I carried nearly all of my life! Rat-a-tat-tat and boom boom boom!
(Mother’s been waiting far too long for a savior…)
The exactness of imagination is impossible to visualize, the exactness of place can be more readily memorized…
© 2012 by the spirits dancing with mark richard prime