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Love, peace and goodness to you, yours and the (H)eartH...
The heaven I paint is the heaven I get. The hell I paint, is mine as well, and so on, eternal blue bird, your sweet reverie wafts into my spirit, you too, eagle, you too, lovely bird. Sing me your stories and I’ll weave them into Love’s graces, and we, together as one spirit, can prove our allegiance to both, Mother and Father, honor the home, cherish and love it, our reason for being, our beholden, the eartH.
(Wake up children! Quick! Into the cellar, there’s a storm a brewin’ between Love and Fear, Heaven and Hell, Here on Earth. On earth as it is in heaven, in heaven as it is on earth! We are home! Heaven is indeed ours to paint!)
Heaven is mine to paint!
(Humankind are angels! Woe to the next line… Brothers and sisters of Love, humankinds been led away from Truth. Humankind’s been stumbling their thick arses across the globe like raving zombies! Humankind’s set their air off with a foul venom, humankind has deadened the soil from a rabid race, blasted bone, blood and flesh!)
I’ve bludgeoned souls and tortured hearts, led children to their death, ignored what’s beneath the feet that I might reap what I’ve imagined, imagined I've the right to sow.
Fade away, cello 19, lay me down to dream with Love, to live with Love, and to let Love live as my only duty. A tall order with an extra shot- if I keep my fear at bay, my dance will be one of Love evermore. If I keep my fear as my God, fear is where it leads. Not for eternal suffering, but to sleep evermore without ever having recognized where I am. A tragedy…
Let me not wait for more of Love’s warnings, let me speak of Love like it’s sacred before I fall away from Heaven evermore. Let me hold my tongue until it is ripe with Love, stay the rage and wrath which has amassed from my greed and supplant it with the sweet whispers of worship in everything I do. Oh, Love! My hands are wide open, grasping for any and all that need me, loving them without question as my brother and my sister, as my family…
I’m sorry, Love. I’m sorry, Love. I’m sorry, Love. Love, I’m sorry. Won’t you please forgive me?
(The brutal tick of the clock brings your nightmares to a clanging heap of foul spirits leftover from years before.)
Do not imagine that I will fail to rise on your behalf. Do not imagine another failure, the man I was before, the lie I lived, stumbling across this ground without recognition. The medicine of Love brought me to this belief, led me to dance with spirits and to express only full Love. Hold all in high regard. Do nothing but Love…
© 2012 by the spirits dancing with mark richard prime